


The Beggar King's Crown

by LokiGodOfMischief



Series: King's Quest [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complicated - Freeform, Gen, Is Viserys a dragon, Remorse, Sibling Hate, Sibling Love, Viserys Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:03:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiGodOfMischief/pseuds/LokiGodOfMischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his very life hangs in the balance, Viserys turns to his sister, the little girl he had raised and protected all those years. Will she protect him now? Or will she let him die?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A crown for a King

**Author's Note:**

> The rights to these characters all belong to George R.R. Martin and HBO

"That was all that I wanted." He lowered his sword and smiled at his sister. "What was promised." He felt vaguely ill at his actions, but it needed to be done, and he was far too drunk to care.  _It was not like those stinking savages would have given me what was promised otherwise. You do not cheat the Dragon. The Dragon takes what is rightfully his._ Like he would ever kill his sister. She had turned into one of those dirty horsefucking savages, but she was still blood of the Dragon. And he made a promise, long ago.

Khal Drogo stood up from his bench and walked towards his sister. He put his large hand on her belly, as if to reassure himself that his child was still alive.  _The child that is my heir. The blood of the dragon, mingled with that of a fucking horse. The Dragon eats the horse, not mates with it._ But, as long as Khal Drogo held his army, he would hold his tongue.  _That's what's important right now. We are going home. With his army, I will sweep the Seven Kingdoms, kill the Usuper and his dogs, and then, I will show everyone what happens if you wake the Dragon._

Without ever taking his eyes of Daenerys, the barbarian uttered a few words in that gurgle those savages called a language, and next he knew, two men seized him from behind. White-hot pain lanced through his arm when one of them broke it with a single, sharp twist of his huge hands. He screamed in agony. When they pulled him back, he began to struggle.

"NO. No, you cannot touch me. I am the Dragon, I am the  _DRAGON._ I WANT MY CROWN."  _How dared they. I am Viserys Targaryen, the Third of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I am the Dragon, the Blood of old Valyria. HOW DARE THEY TOUCH ME?_

They forced him on his knees, holding his arms stretched out above him. Khal Drogo barked another order, and walked towards the fire. A pot of stew was quickly emptied on the ground. Drogo took of his heavy golden belt and tossed it into the pot.  _What is he doing?_ He was starting to panick now, and with wide, terrified eyes, looked at his sister, who was watching him dispassionately. Mormont had made his way to her side and put his hand on her arm.

"Look away, Khaleesi."

She softly shaked her head. "No."

He stared at her, paralysed with fear, until he heard a soft hiss from his right side. His head snapped aside, and he saw Drogo standing over the flames, above the pot with molten gold. And then it hit him. _Molten gold. Crown. He's going to pour that over me. He's going to kill me._ Almost hysterical with fear, he turned towards his sister again. _Help me, Dany. Save me, I beg you._

"Dany." He begged her desperately, "Dany, tell them. Make them..."  _Please, sister, save me. Make him stop. Please. Stop them. I protected you, all these years. I fed you, I kept you save. Please don't let him to this._ He saw Drogo retrieving the pot from the fire, making his way towards him. "No, you can't, you... Just." But Drogo just looked at him as he had always done, with derision and utterly without mercy.

"DANY PLEASE" he screamed, but when he looked at her a final time, she was just standing ther, dead-eyed, without any emotion. And then it hit him. _She hates me. She hates me, and she is going to let me die. She is going to stand there while her husband kills me. By the Gods, what have I done?_

He looked up and saw Drogo looming over him, the pot in his hands.

"A crown for a king." was all he said, and he upended the pot.

He saw the stream of molten gold falling. He screamed. Then, everything turned black.

******

"I am the Dragon. Hear me roar!"

Queen Rhaella smiled at her youngest son's antics. The boy never failed to bring a smile to her lips. The Gods knew that that was a rare ocurrence these days. Not that there was much reason to smile for. Her beloved husband was a raving madman, who had succeeded in making half the Realm take up arms against him. And they were actually winning the war, and because of that, many houses that had previously remained neutral now flocked towards the rebels. Not that they needed much conviction. Aerys' madness was now well-known througout the Seven Kingdoms, and the injustice of the executions of both Lord Rickard Stark AND his heir Brandon Stark was still fresh in everyones memory. The so-called abduction of Lyanna Stark, the bethroded of Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, by her eldest son Rhaegar was not helpful either. When her husband called for the heads of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, Rickard's second son, their foster father, rather then surrender his young wards, raised his banners against him. They also formed an alliance through marriage with the Tullys of Riverrun. Thanks to Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, the North, the Vale, the Stormlands and the Riverlands had risen up against him. The situation had become so dire that Rhaegar had assembled a royal army to destroy the rebellion. He was gone for several weeks now, and they still had not received word. The Queen was worried. Worried about her son, fearing for his safety. The Lord of Storm's End was born for battle, if the tales were true, wielding a massive warhammer, slaying enemies left and right.  She prayed daily for her son's safety, often joined by her gooddaughter, princess Elia Martell of Dorne. She loved her husband, even if he did not love her the same way. The poor women felt guilty, believing it to be her fault that Rhaegar had taken Lady Stark. But she had her children to look after, sweet little Rhaenys and young Aegon.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a great roar, and she looked up and saw Viserys running through the room, flying on his imaginary dragon. She thanked the gods every day that they saw fit to give her another son to brighten her days. She loved Rhaegar more than anything in the world, but there was a great sadness that accompanied him wherever he went. And he was no longer her little boy, he was a man with children of his own. So the Gods saw fit to give her another son, a wild, happy, adorable little child. And, if the absence of her moon's blood continued, he would have a little brother or sister soon. Her heart swelled. Her second son would not grow up so lonely as his elder brother.  

"HEAR ME ROAR!" little Viserys yelled, "I am Balerion the Dread."

When he ran past her again, she outstretched her arms, caught him and pulled him on her lap. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek. Viserys was struggling to escape her grip, but he was laughing, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

"Now, now, child, those are not the words of our house. Those are the words of House Lannister. You know our words, do you not?"

" _Fire and Blood_ " Viserys whispered, "like dragons. Dragons are fire made flesh."

"Yes, and you are a dragon. Never forget that. You are prince Viserys Targaryen, blood of the dragon. Don't let anyone tell you you are any less than that. Do you understand me?"

"Yes mother."

"Good. Now, have you finished practising your letters." She knew he hadn't. Her son would rather play than learn, the complete opposite of his brother. 

"They are boring." the young prince lamented. "I don't want write. I want to read about dragons. About Aegon and his sisters. About Vilaryia."

"Valyria, Viserys. Say it with me. VA-LY-RI-A."

He repeated the word with her, "Valyria."

"Very good. Now, how about I tell you a tale?"

"About dragons?" His beautiful lilac eyes went wide with barely concealed excitement.

"Yes, about Dragons. I will tell you the story about your ancestor Jaehaerys I Targaryen, also known as the Old King, and his sister-wife, Good Queen Alysanne. Jaehaerys was a wise king, beloved by all, and his wife even more. After the reign of his uncle Maegor, who built this very castle, Jaehaerys had to put an end to an uprising of the Faith."

"Like the rebellion that Rhaegar is going to stop?"

"Yes, but he managed to do it peacefully. He offered them mercy, and they put down their weapons. And so he became known as a peacemaker. Now, king Jaehaerys and his wife loved to travel, and they visited almost every village in the entire realm."

"That's impossible. Everyone says that the Realm is very big. If it's so big, you can't see it all." her little boy reasoned.

"You can if you have dragons. Jaehaerys rode Verminthor, and Alysanne rode Silverwing. Now, one day, they decided to visit the North, and they took with them their dragons and half the court. Now, during their stay at Winterfell, queen Alysanne decided she wanted to visit the Wall and the Night's Watch. So she rode her dragon and stayed with them. She was so impressed with their bravery that she asked Jaehaerys to double the land they possessed. The Night's Watch was equally impressed with Alysanne, for they renamed the castle she stayed in from Snowgate to Queensgate. They also..."

She was interrupted when the door flew open and ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms entered. He seemed in a great hurry.

"I am terribly sorry for this interruption, my queen, but I come bearing news." Suddenly, the room became ice-cold, and Rhaella felt her dread growing.

"We just had word from the Trident. We have lost. Our armies are defeated and Lord Stark is marching towards King's Landing as we speak."

"My son, what about my son?" she asked, but she could see the answer written in the lines of Ser Darry's face.

"I am so sorry, my Queen. He fell. He faced Robert Baratheon in single combat and was killed."

She buried her face in her hands and began to cry. Viserys, still on her lap, put his tiny arms around her and looked up at her with confused eyes.

"Mamma, what's wrong? Why are you crying? What happened to Rhaegar? When is he coming back?" Tears began to shine in his eyes.

Rhaella tried to explain, but no sound would leave her throat. It was up to ser Darry to break the news. "Your brother won't be coming back, my prince. He was killed by evil men. The task of defending your family, your mother, now falls on you. Can you do that, my prince? Can you keep her safe? For Rhaegar?"

He was crying, but he nodded. "I will. I'm a dragon." ser Darry gave the boy a smile, and patted his head. Then, he turned towards Rhaella once more.

"King's Landing is no longer safe, my Queen. I have orders to evacuate you to Dragonstone."

****

Viserys decided he liked Dragonstone. It was the ancient seat of house Targaryen, his mother told him, from the days before his ancestors conquered the Seven Kingdoms, when the Valyrian Freehold still ruled much of the known world. It was dark, brooding and strong. On nights such at this one, during storms, the central keep made booming sounds. They called it the Stone Drum. He found it all very interesting. But his favorite location was without a doubt the Chamber of the Painted Table. The room contained a large table, made to be an exact copy of Westeros. His mother had told him that Aegon Targaryen himself had sat on this table, planning his invasion. He could not think of a better place from wich to launch his invasion, when he went to take back what was now his. 

Word had reached them from King's Landing. After losing the battle and the crown prince, the lion had betrayed them. They had taken King's Landing and killed his father, his brother's wife and his nephew and niece. The tales said that his father was murdered by one of his Kingsguard, ser Jaime Lannister. Viserys found that hard to believe. He had always liked ser Jaime, he was nice and kind. He could not imagine him killing his father. But his father was dead, and now he was the rightful king. He had to take back the throne. It felt he had to, as a Targaryen. He would regain the throne and punish those responsible for the death of his father and brother.  _I am the Dragon._ _As soon as mother is well, we will go back, and we will kill them all._

He was standing in the Chamber of the Painted Table, looking to the west, where he knew King's Landing was. Although he grew to like Dragonstone, it was not home. He longed to go back to the Red Keep, to his chambers, where he could play in peace. He wanted to go home. When they told him they had to leave, he had cried, screamed and kicked. He did not want to go away. He had wanted to stay home. And he would go home. 

Suddenly, he noticed he was no longer alone. Ser Darry was standing next to him, hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing out of bed this hour, my king?" 

"Couldn't sleep." he mumbled, "too much noise."

"Quite a storm, isn't it? I have never seen anything like it."

"How's my momma?" he asked ser Darry.

"She's still in bed. You can see her in a short while, my King, when she is better. Then, you can visit her and your new sibling. How does that sound?"

"Ok, I guess." He turned towards ser Darry. "When she is better, can we go home?"

"I'm afraid not, my king. It would not be safe. In fact, I think we will have to leave Dragonstone soon."

"Where would we go?" he asked.

"The Free Cities, most likely."

"I don't want to go to the Free Cities. I want to go home!"

"And you will, in time, I promise. This will just be temporarily, my King, until you are big and strong enough to take back the Iron Throne."

"I am big and strong. I am the Dragon." he retorted defiantly, and ser Darry smiled.

"That you are, my king, but you are still a small dragon. When you are fully grown, you can take back your birthright and avenge your family. But until then, we will have to keep you safe, along with your mother and sibling."

"Fine then, I'll wait." he huffed.

"Patience is a virtue, my king, and a very useful one at that." ser Darry gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and they looked back at the stormy night sky. The storm appeared to have grown in power, and Dragonstone had become an island in a sea of turmoil. Enourmous waves threw themselves on the rocks, and the wind was blowing so hard that it ripped a banner straight from it's pole. It flew past their window and was swept into the dark night. 

"We can only hope that the same storm is harrying the entire sea." ser Darry said, more to himself than to Viserys. The Usurper's brother was raising a fleet to conquer Dragonstone and capture the last surviving Targaryens, and the fleet of House Redwyne, who had supported his family until the Sack of King's Landing, was sailing around Westeros to join them. The Seven Kingdoms were united against them.

Then, lightning flashed through the sky once more, briefly illuminating the island, and what they saw took their breat away. A gigantic wave was making it's way to the island, more than 25 feet high.

"Gods save us all." ser Darry whispered when the wave descended upon the anchored ships, and even the loud thunderclaps could not drown out the sound breaking wood and screaming men. Ships were breaking or getting smashed on the rocks. After a minute, almost nothing remained of the entire royal fleet. Viserys was staring in horror at the spectacle below him. 

"Gone. They are all gone." he said, as if he did not believe what he was saying. Ser Darry could not quite believe his eyes as well. The proud royal fleet, last defence of the Targaryen dynasty, destroyed in mere seconds.

Then, the door flew open and a servant ran in. "Ser Darry, the Queen demands your precense in her chambers. Yours as well, Your Grace."

When they entered the room, the smell of sweat and blood hung heavy in the air. His mother was still in her bed. She looked very pale and ill, but a weary smile graced her lips. "Ser Darry, could you come over here, please?" her voice sounded weak. "Viserys, go say hello to your sister." she pointed at a wet nurse, who was holding a bundle pressed against her chest. When he approached, the wet nurse smiled at him and gave him the bundle. Inside was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Soft, small and very pretty, she was. He stroked her chin softly. "Hello, sister." he said. "My name is Viserys Targaryen, Third of his Name, rightful king of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. But you can call me Viserys. I am your brother." He planted a soft kiss on her forehead, and on that moment, she opened her little eyes. They were violet, and they shone like precious gems. They looked him straight in the eyes, and then the baby gurgled. She sounded happy. 

"Her name is Daenerys." his mother spoke, "Daenerys Stormborn." The little baby grasped his finger with her tiny hands and put it in her mouth. He smiled down at her. "Blood of the dragon indeed." He pulled his finger out of her mouth, wiped it off and gave his sister back to the wet nurse. When he turned towards his mother, she was still smiling, but she looked very, very ill. She patted her hand on the bed, inviting him to sit with her. He sat down and threw his arms around her, pulling her in a hug that she returned with fervour. Then, she pulled away and looked him in the eye.

"Listen, Viserys, my sweet boy, we don't have much time. I want you to listen very carefully. You will be leaving soon, along with ser Darry, and you will take your sister with you. He will take care of you. Do you understand me?"

"Why? Are you not going with us?"

Tears were streaming down her face now, "I wish I could, my brave little dragon, but I can't. Momma is tired, and needs to rest. She can't go any further. It pains me to leave you behind and entrusting you with the care for you sister, but I have no other choice. I know you can do it, my sweet dragon boy. I love you more then I can ever tell you, and I know you will keep your sister safe. For you are a dragon, and dragons are strong. Can you be strong for me, my king? Can you be strong for your sister?"

"I will be strong, mother. For you and for my sister. You will be proud of me, when you return." He was crying as well

She smiled weakly. "I am already so proud of you. You two are the last dragons. Protect each other, and you will be fine. I know you will be. I love you, both. Keep an eye out for each other. Remember, you are the Dragon, and don't let anyone tell you you are something less. Do not forget who and what you are. And I promise, one day, my son, we will meet again.

Be strong."  she whispered, and then her eyes closed and her breathing stopped. Viserys threw his arms around her.

"Wake up, mother. Wake up. Please. Don't leave me. Please." his voice fell away, and he was sobbing in her chest now. Daenerys began to wail as well, as if she shared his grief. After a few minutes, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, my prince. Let your mother rest."

 

A few nights later, he was standing on the back of the ship, staring at Dragonstone while it was fading in the distance. Ser Darry had smuggled them out, when he heard rumors that the guards were going to sell them to the Usurper's brother. Just the night before, he was standing on the beach of Dragonstone, holding his sister in his arms, watching his mother's funeral pyre burn. And now they were away, to unknown places filled with strangers. The very idea filled him with dread. But he had to be strong. He promised. 

He looked down at his sister, who was staring up at him, bubbling happily, and he smiled. "I promise you this, Dany, I will keep you safe, no matter the cost. I will bring us home. You will be safe." He pressed his cheek against her forehead, looking away over the sea. Brother and sister, all alone, the last survivors of their family. But, he swore, they would take back what was theirs. With Fire and Blood.

*****

"Dany, how many times must I tell you? YOU CANNOT LEAVE THIS HOUSE!" he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and shook her vehemently. He knew he was gripping to hard, was being a bit harsh, but she had to understand. It was for her own safety. The Usurper's hired knifes were out there, looking for them. Of that, he had no doubt. So, if by being harsh he could keep her inside, could keep her safe, he would do it. There was nothing he would not do to ensure her safety. He saw tears blinking in her eyes, and he released the grip he had on her shoulders and took her gently in his arms.

"Dany, please don't cry. I know I was a bit harsh, but you have to understand. I'm only concerned about you. It's not safe out there, you know that. I only want to protect you, you understand that. I could not bear to lose you too, you are all I have left. I don't like being locked up here any more than you do, but it is necessary. The mere thought of us keeps the Usurper awake at night, and he will stop at nothing to kill us, because we are the Dragon, and everyone fears the Dragon. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but you have to listen to me. Promise me that you won't try to leave again." 

His sister nodded and threw her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, Viserys. I should have listened. It's just... I wanted to go outside so badly. I feel like I can't breathe sometimes. I want air."

He scooped her up in his arms en went to the upper floor. He opened the hatch to the roof and climbed out. He sat down, sister on his lap. It was dry and sunny, wich is very unusual for Braavos, but he was not about to complain. Dany breathed in deeply, smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, brother."

"Anything for my little princess." he said, and she giggled. She was five years old and growing fast, but she would always remain his little girl, the girl that snuck into his bed when she had nightmares, begging for him to hold her to ward them off., the girl that kept asking him about their home, the Seven Kingdoms, and their family, and although it pained him sometimes to talk about it, he realized that, where he had memories, she had nothing, so he answered all her question and basked in the attention she was giving him. So it was this time.

"Tell me again about King's Landing." It was one of her favorites, the city built by their ancestors, the seat of their power, now in the hands of the Usurper and his dogs.  _Not for long, though._ He prayed every night, that someday they would be able to return. It was not only his wish, but his duty, as a Targaryen.

He began to talk, and Dany was so familiar with his story that she mouthed it with him. "King's Landing is the capital city of the Seven Kingdoms and the regional capital of the Crownlands. It is the seat of the king, the seat of house Targaryen. It was built on the site of Aegon the Conquerer's first camp when he landed on the shores of Westeros. With the Blackwater Bay to the North and the Blackwater Rush to the East, it was an easily defendable location, because it could not be taken by surprise. Within it's walls lie three great hills. Visenya's Hill in the West is crowned by the Great Sept of Baelor, while Rhaenys's Hill is capped by the Dragonpit Dome, where our forebears held their dragons. And finally, in the souteast courner of the city, you have Aegon's High Hill. And you know what lies on top of that hill?"

"The Red Keep." she spoke animatedly.

"Indeed. The Red Keep itself was built by Aegon's son, Maegor. It is said that, once finished, he had all the builders executed, to protect all the hidden passageways. He claimed that only the Dragonlords would know all the secrets of their castle."

"That's not very nice."

"Well, the called him Maegor the Cruel. It is said that he had eight or nine wives, who all failed to produce him an heir. He had some of them executed as well."

"When you take the throne, you won't be a cruel king, wouldn't you? You would be kind and sweet. And I will be your queen."

"Yes, you will. We will rule the Seven Kingdoms together. I promise you. And we will be the greatest king and queen that ever lived. Even better than Jaehaerys and his wife Alysanne. The people will love us. They are waiting for us to return, I feel it."

"Viserys?" she looked up at him. 

"Yes, my princess?"

"When will we go home?"

"I don't know. Ser Willem says we still have allies in Westeros, but he says I'm too young now. So we'll just have to wait."

Seemingly content with his reply, she sighed and snuggled closer to him, head resting on his chest. After a few minutes, she dozed off. Not wanting to wake her, he sat there for a while, just staring at the horizon. The sun was setting, and soon it would be dark. He knew that he had to bring his sister to bed. Ser Willem had insisted on it. But he doubted that he would be able to complain.

He had not told Dany, because she was still too young and loved the old man dearly, but Viserys knew it. He was dying. He had been very ill for a while now, and he did not seem to get better. When his mother had died, he was not old enough to really realize it, but now he did. And it scared him. Ser Willem had been there when his mother passed away, to help him, to guide him and to keep them safe. But what if his protector died as well? What would happen to them? He would be alone to take care of his sister. He had no idea where he would go, what he would do to keep himself and Dany fed and safe. He was frightened. Every day he woke up fearing that the old man had died, and that he was on his own. He looked down at his sister, with her beautiful silvery hair, sleeping with a smile on her face, like she did not have a care in the world. It put him at ease a bit. So long as they had each other, they would be fine.

After a while, he gently lifted her up and carried her downstairs. He put her into her bed, pulled up the blankets and kissed her softly on her head. "Sleep well, my little princess. Dream your happy dreams." He went to his own room, closed the door, climbed into his bed and fell asleep.

He woke up a few hours later when someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder. He bolted up, ready to attack the intruder, when he saw it was Dany. He immediately relaxed. "Could not sleep, little princess?" She shaked her head. "Well, come here then." He pulled the covers away, inviting her in. With a huge grin on her face, she climbed in, nestled herself against him. He put his arm around her and she laid her head on his shoulder. He pulled the blankets back up, covering them both. And, as always when she laid in his arms, she fell asleep almost instantaneously. He had to admit, he also felt safer when she was in his arms, because she apparently thought it was the safest place in the whole world. After a few minutes, he dozed off as well.

They awoke with a start when suddenly the door flew open with a bang. Dany screamed and hid in his arms. Several of the servants stepped in the room

"What in the Gods names..." Viserys yelled. 

"Up!" the largerst man growled. He was wielding a kitchen knife.

"What is the meaning of this?" Viserys demanded. He tried to look imposing, but the words came out in a squeak. Some of the servants opened his closet and began throwing his clothes and other posessions on the bed. 

"Ser Willem is dead." one of the servant girls said, "and you can't stay here."

"What do you mean, we can't stay here. I'm the Dragon. The rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms. You can't kick us out. You can't."

"Shut up and get dressed." one of the men barked, and he threw some clothes at Viserys. Dany was weeping now.

"She's just a child? Have you no heart?" he screamed, but no one listened.  _They are robbing us. They are robbing us blind and then they will throw us on the streets.Think, Viserys, think._ To Dany, who was still crying and clinging to him, he said: "Go to your room, Dany, and get some clothes. Take as much clothes as they will allow and stuff them in a sack. Meet me in the hall in ten minutes. Do you understand." She nodded slowly and ran off.

He pulled on some clothes as well, and managed to stuff some spare ones in a sack. The servants were too buys searching for valuables to pay much attention. He stormed out of this room and went to the top floor. There, under a loose floorboard, he had hidden all the treasures that he and his mother had taken with them from King's Landing, and a few trinkets he had from his time on Dragonstone. He never kept them in his room, afraid they might have gotten stolen. After all, they were all he had left to remind him of his heritage, of their standing. They would NOT take them from him. He hid them in his clothes, as many as he could. The rest he stuffed in his sack. He went downstairs. Dany was waiting for him, a large sack clutched in her little hand, her eyes blotchy from crying. 

"Ser Willem is in bed, and he won't wake up. They are doing all this to us, and he won't wake up to stop them." Viserys knew he had to explain it to her at some point, but now was not the time. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Come now, Dany. We must go. Ser Willem cannot take care of us any longer."

"But we cannot go outside. It is not safe. You said so yourself." she struggled when he began to pull her towards the door. He began to lose his patience.

"Dany, for once, you do what I say without saying ANYTHING. Do you understand? I am the Dragon? Do you want to wake the Dragon, hm? DO YOU WANT TO WAKE THE DRAGON?" she began to cry harder, but she did not utter a single word. He felt guilty again, but right now it was important that she followed him without question. He took her free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, to let her know he was no longer angry. They walked towards the door, but when they wanted to exit, a few servants came running up, snatched their bags from them, opened the door and tossed them out on the streets. The red door closed behind them.

It all happened so fast that Viserys barely had time to react. When he came to his senses, his anger burst forth.

"NO!" he bellowed, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS. I AM THE DRAGON. YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, I SWEAR. YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS WITH YOUR MISERABLE LITTLE LIVES. HOW DARE YOU TO ROB FROM A KING? YOU ARE ALL DEAD, YOU HEAR ME? DEAD DEAD DEAD." He kicked against the door, again and again until he could no longer feel his foot and his throat was sore. Then, he slumped down, face buried in his hands.  _What are we going to do? All we have is the clothes on our bodies and the valuables I managed to sneak out. We have nothing._

_No, he thought. We still have something. We are Targaryens. We are the rightful rulers of the Seven Kingdoms. And once I come into my throne, I will make them all pay for this. Surely I can find supporters for my cause. I can offer them riches beyond their wildest dreams. I will convince them to help me, and we will take back my kingdom. This is just a minor inconvenience, that's all._

He walked up towards Dany, who was still lying on the ground. He gently helped her up.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I think so. My knee hurts, but nothing too bad."

"You are a dragon. We don't complain about our knees. Do you understand that." the words came out harsher than he meant them, but he was very angry.

"Yes, Viserys. Are you mad at me?" she asked, and her lip trembled.  _She is only five years old. Just a child. I have to live on the streets with a fucking child._

"No, of course not. I am angry at the situation, not you. Come on, get up, we must go." He lifted her high in the hair and put her on his back. She threw her little arms around his shoulder, holding on to him for dear life. 

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I don't know." he answered.

"Why do we have to leave?" 

"Because ser Willem is no longer here to take care of us, and the rest of those traitors don't want us anymore."

"How will we survive?"

"I don't know."

"Will we ever go back?"

"Not likely?"

"Why not? I want to go back right now. Perhaps they changed their minds. Go back!"

"No!"

"Please Viserys, go back!"

"NO!"

"But.."

"WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT UP. WE CAN'T GO BACK. I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE EITHER, BUT WE HAVE TO." he continued on a softer tone, "we're alone, Dany. From now on, we'll have to fend for ourselves. But we are Targaryen. We are the Dragon. We will survive. And we WILL come back, with Fire and Blood!"

****

Viserys did not know how long they had been living on the streets of the Free Cities of Essos, but it had been several years. He was a man now, and Daenerys almost a woman. Their life was not an easy one. Running from city to city, from Braavos to Volantis to Lys, Tyrosh, Pentos, back to Braavos and so on, always on the run from the Usuper's hired knifes. They could not stay in one place out of fear of being detected. In the beginning, he tried to visit as many wealthy and powerful men, merchants princes and nobles alike, anyone who would listen to their plight. After all, the Targaryen name still opened doors, for their history was a rich one, even before their rule over the Sunset Kingdoms. They were the blood of Old Valyria, the only ones who escaped the Doom. It was an honour to host a Targaryen, even an exiled one. Or so they told him. Each of them gave them food and drink, listened to their plight and spoke words of promise and hope. They told him stories about the Seven Kingdoms, how the people yearned for their rightful king to return to them. And although , deep in his heart, he knew that those words were empty, it felt good to allow himself to believe them. Perhaps, after a while, he would start to believe them for real.

But soon, the wealthy merchant princes and powerful nobles realized that he had nothing to offer them in return, nothing but promises of wealth and the friendship of the King of Westeros. But wealth they had in spades, and the wealthy and powerful do not care much for friendship. So they began to close their doors for them. Viserys, however, would not give up so easily. He was the Dragon, and he had a duty; to return the Seven Kingdoms to its rightful rulers. He had nothing to offer but promises, and he knew that no sane man would ever make a deal with him, but still he continued. He begged them, first for aid in reconquering Westeros, at later points just for shelter and food. They were still polite in his face, but he could hear how they mocked him behind his back. "The Beggar King" they called him. When they spoke of him, they laughed in their cups. He hated it and he hated them, but he persevered nonetheless. What else could he do? More and more doors were closed, and then, one moment, he realized that he could no longer provide food or shelter for himself and his sister, so he did the only thing he could: he began selling his family's heirlooms. For far less then the actual value. Every time he was forced to sell one of his trinkets, his anger grew inside him, anger at the injustice of his situation, anger at those who mocked him, anger at everyone. His sister was also good for nothing. Just an extra mouth to feed, and nothing to contribute. Gods, he wished his mother was here. She would know what to do, she always did. But she died giving birth to his sister. It was not fair. He wanted his mother, now more than anything, and SHE was the reason his mother was no longer here. He had to sell his heirlooms because she needed to be fed. If Mother was here, we would not need to beg for help, so if you thought about it, it was Dany's fault that they were living on the streets like beggars, he, the Dragon, the rightful king of Westeros. Sometimes, the anger he carried became so great that he would burst out, and he would focus his anger on the person who was at fault for this entire situation; Dany. He started calling it "Waking the Dragon", because he was a dragon, and dragons are fickle creatures, wild and unpredictable. And it felt great to have someone who did not laugh at him, who did not mocked him, because she dared not. And soon, when he had his crown, everyone would respect him, and all those who had mocked him will learn to fear the Dragon.  _Fire and Blood. Perhaps I should promise them that if they refuse to help me. I am the Dragon, and there is no one more powerful as the Dragon._

 

 His sister knew her place. She knew he would never do her any serious harm, for she was to be his Queen. She was the only one who could ever be his queen, because, after all, the bloodline had to be kept pure.  _The Dragon does not mate with lowborn scum._ When he reclaimed his throne, everything would be better. They would be happy, he just knew it. All he had to do was conquer the Seven Kingdoms.

Easier set than done, if you have no allies and no one willing to help you. The Iron Throne was more out of his reach then ever. And every day, they became poorer and poorer. They slept on the streets more often than not, and going to sleep without food in their bellies was no longer a rare occcurence. Now, the only thing he had left was his mother's crown, but he would not sell that unless he had no other choice. It was the last remainder of their family's heirlooms, their most precious posession, the only connection he still had with his life before the rebellion. 

And now, he was selling it, on a market square in Myr, to the highest bidder. It should have fetched quite a price, but of course, potential buyers exploited the obvious desperation he had to have money, so he could obtain a warm meal and a roof over his head for himself and his sister. The crown was eventually sold for half the price, and Viserys was furious. He had even slapped Daenerys when she tried to cheer him up. "Don't speak to me. Unless you want to wake the Dragon? Do you, you stupid wench. You truly have shit for brains, do you not? At least you're pretty, otherwise you'd be completely useless." Daenerys fell silent. She learned long ago to cry in complete silence, for Viserys could not stand her wailing anymore. The bitterness that had taken hold of him the minute he was forced to sell his family's treasures had now completely filled him. For what joy could there be found, when he had spend his entire fortune and he was still not one step closer to the Iron Throne and his birhtright.

A few weeks later, when his last money was almost gone, he bought the two of them passage to Pentos. He had heard of a wealthy merchant prince, Illyrio Mopatis, who was perhaps willing to aid them. Right now, Viserys highly doubted it, but then, why not? At least it will buy them some food and a roof over their heads for a few days.

****

Illyrio Mopatis had a plan, and a reasonably sound one at that. His crown would be assured, and he wouldn't have to lift a single finger. But at what price. He seethed with anger. She was his, his sister, his queen. He would rather die than to see her in the hands of a Dothraki horselord. Then again, that Dothraki horselord had 40 000 men at his command, strong, able bodied warriors, not the peasant levies that the armies of the Seven Kingdoms consisted of. If he gave up his sister, they would be his to command, and with the support he would no doubt receive from many great houses once he landed on the shores of Westeros, he would destroy the Usurper and his lapdogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. His victory would be all but assured. But, after he had won, then what? Who would be his queen? For the entirety of her life, he knew that one day she would become his queen. It was the Targaryen way, the Valyrian way. The bloodline must be kept pure. The Dragon does not mate with the horse. And if she got pregnant. The son would be his heir, until he procured one of his own. The spawn of a Dothraki horselord, half a savage, would sit on the Iron Throne. He shuddered at the thought. And if she had his son, what would prevent that barbarian to kill him, so that his son might sit upon the Iron Throne. He should refuse. Dany was his and his alone. 

Then again, he had his duty to consider, the duty he had towards his family and the entire realm: to overthrow the hated Usurper and restore the throne to it's rightful owner: him. Could he be that selfish? To place his own desires above that of his people? Didn't he owe it to his kingdom to sacrifice his own personal happiness, and that of his sister in it's benefit. 

After all these years, he had desperatly tried to remember everything he could of King's Landing and the Red Keep, the Throne Room, Maegor's Holdfast, his mother's chambers, his own chambers. It all came back to him, clear as day. A single tear made its way down his cheek. He wanted to go home, that more than anything. That was his heart's wish. And if this Khal Drogo could see it fulfilled, he would take the deal. Besides, after he had won him the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps, if the gods were good, an "accident" could befall the mighty Khal. He decided he would go through with it. For now.

He turned around and went to his sister's chamber, to check on her. He had to make sure she was pretty enough for the Khal. It will be strange, relying on her for the first time in her life. Now, she must do something for me. But she would not dare refuse him. She would not want to wake the Dragon.

 

Wine was not something Viserys was familiar with. After all, when you are on the run with little to no money, wine is one of the pleasures you really can't afford. Of course, he had drunk a few glasses back when he was a guest for all the wealthy and powerful on Essos, but he was a mere boy back then, and he had wisely stayed away from it. You can't gain support for a serious matter like reconquering the Seven Kingdoms when you are roaring drunk. But right now, he had the stomach for it, there was wine aplenty and he had reason enough to drink himself into oblivion. 

Khal Drogo had liked Daenerys, or so Magister Illyrio had assured him. The man himself had not said a worth, but he did not need to. He was a huge, bulking brute of a man, an imposing figure on his horse and his long braid, signalling that in his entire life, he had never been defeated. But he had managed to hide it, showing only the enthousiasm he had for the match. Dany, on the other hand, had difficulty hiding her terror from the mighty Khal. He felt really sorry for her, knowing that she would never be queen of the Seven Kingdoms (although, never?), and marrying a barbarian instead of her king. But, as he had assured him, they would go home. With an army. Khal Drogo's army. He had even said that he would let his whole khalasar fuck her, even the horses, if that was what it took. Not that he would do that, of course, but a little threat would not hurt, to show her that he meant it.

That did not mean he had to like it, though. The mere thought of his fragile little sister in the hands of that stinking savage made his blood boil. She belonged to the Dragon, and the Dragon did not share. The Dragon takes what is his. And perhaps he would.

The more he drank, the better the idea seemed to be. Drogo could have her for now, but the Dragon will have his due. Why should that barbarian be the first to sample her? In wich world does the horse come before the Dragon. She was his, and if he could not have her, he would make sure he was the first. A consolation prize. He would spoil her for any other man.

He got up from his table, and almost immediately fell over. He was not used to that much wine, apparently. But he was the Dragon. And the Dragon cannot be stopped. He staggered through the empty corridors towards his sisters bedroom. But when he got there, he found a pair of guardsmen guarding her door. He briefly debated ordering them to step aside and let him through, but he decided against it. He cursed inwardly as he made his way back to his own bedroom. Not bothering to take his clothes off, he fell on the bed and immediately fell asleep.

****

 If Viserys didn't know better, he would have said that the whole wedding ceremony had been organised specifically to demean him. He was not given the seat of honour as was his due, as the King of Westeros and brother of the bride, but he was forced to sit on a lower bench, as if he was some common lowborn little lordling. The Khal's personal guard (or blood-riders, as Illyrio had told him) were seated higher then him. If that was the only slight he would be forced to swallow, he would not have complained. The ceremony itself was  _amusing,_ for a savage ritual. Their habit of mating before the entire tribe was interesting enough, but the men fought and killed each other for the girls. Illyrio had said that a Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths was considered a dull affair, and he had laughed at that. But then, a man approached the Khaleesi, a man that was neither Dothraki nor from the Free Cities. He knew a Westerosi when he saw one. He came bearing gifts, so he was invited, by Illyrio most likely. He knew who was getting married, he knew that her brother was the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, but without even a bow or a nod in his direction, he went straight to his sister, and gave her the books. Only then, the man turned towards him. But he did not bow, nor did he acknowledge his king. It was as if he wasn't there. Then, Magister Illyrio gave a sign, and a couple of servants carrying a large crate came forward. They opened the lid, and Dany's eyes went wide with amazement, just as his own. Dragon eggs. That fat basterd had given Daenerys dragon eggs. Turned to stone, of course, but no less valuable. Dragon eggs. Dragons had been the dream of his house since they no longer had them. It is said that when the last dragon died, the might of house Targaryen began to wane. The dragons were the weapon that kept the Seven Kingdoms in check. If his brother Rhaegar had a dragon, if his father had a dragon, they would not have dared to make war against them, fearing a second Field of Fire, or a second Harrenhal. Many of his ancestors tried to regain their lost power by other means, like wildfire. One king (he could not remember the name) believed that if he drank wildfire, it would turn him into a dragon. He died horribly.  _But he wasn't a dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon._

And now his sister had dragon eggs. Three of them. And he, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, had none.  _They should have been mine. I am the Dragon. If I had a dragon, I would not need Khal Drogo's army. I could take the Seven Kingdoms all by myself, and Dany would be my queen, as I promised her once._ He seethed with jealousy, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing, except following the plan. He would not need dragons. And the eggs were turned to stone anyway, so Dany could not use them either.

Speaking of Dany, she had made her way down the stairs from the dais to where Khal Drogo was waiting for her. He presented her with a magnificent white mare, the most beautiful horse he had ever seen in his life, fit for a queen. He heard her ask something to the Westerosi knight, and he replied in gutteral Dothraki. When Daenerys repeated this, the Khal seemed pleased. When she was mounted, he had finally reached her and put his hand on her leg.

"Make him happy." he said, and he squeezed her leg. She did not reply, but he knew she understood him. Then, she rode away with her new husband. He turned around and saw Illyrio, standing with the Westerosi knight. He walked towards them.

"Your Grace, "Illyrio said, "may I present you, ser Jorah Mormont, former lord of Bear Island."

"Your Grace!" Mormont said, and he bowed.

"Mormont, from Bear Island. Do they not swear allegiance to the Starks of Winterfell?"

"Yes, we do." the knight replied.

"Then why are you here? Did your liege lord send you to finish the job he started sixteen years ago?"

"No, he did not, Your Grace. And yet, here I stand."

"Lord Mormont has lived in exile in the Free Cities for many years. He was caught selling poachers to slavers instead of sending them to the wall, in order to appease his expensive wife. He fled with her rather than to face justice. He has made his living as a sellsword ever since, but is dying to go home." Illyrio supplied.

"And so you turn to me, hoping to gain a pardon by pledging your sword to me. Very well, I will need all the capable men I can find to help me. If you swear your allegiance to me, when we reclaim my fathers throne, I will grant you your pardon and restore your holdings to you."

"Thank you, Your Grace." he said, and he drew his sword, planted it in the ground, knelt and said the words. " With the Old Gods and the New as my witness, I hereby pledge my sword and life in defence of the rightul king, Viserys Targaryen."

"Rise, good ser, and be merry tonight, for we will be going home soon." Mormont bowed once again, turned around and walked away. Viserys' eyes narrowed to slits when he studied the old man. There was something off about him. He pledged his sword and life to him just a few seconds ago, so why did he look at Viserys like he was somthing he had to scrape of the sole of his boot. He had to keep an eye out for that man. And an eye on Illyrio too. He seemed like a nice enough man, but Viserys had learned long ago that appearances can be deceiving. Fair speech may hide a foul heart, after all. 

The next day, when the Khalasar was about to leave, Viserys took the decision to join them in their journey to Vaes Dothrak. Apparently, before he could get his army, his sister had to be presented to a group of old hags, to decide is she is worthy. A fucking waste of time if you asked him. She is blood of the Dragon, not some horse slut. Hers is the blood of kings, of Valyria of old. Only then would the Khal give him his army.

But he was not going to sit around and wait for that to happen, and certainly not with Illyrio. He did not trust the man one bit. And he seemed all to keen to keep him there, wich was very suspicious. He did not think that he wanted to kill him, per se, but one can never be too careful. Also, he did not think that Drogo would keep his promise, so he had to go with them to remind them. If he had stayed, the minute they disappeared over the horizon, those barbarians would take off with his sister, and they would never return again. He would have lost her and his army. He was not about to let that happen. So a few hours later, he had joined Jorah Mormont in the long trek to the east.

****

He knew how they mocked him. He knew how they laughed with him. He knew that riding in the cart was not an honour but a slight, but what was he supposed to do? Walk the entire way? Not bloody likely. And it was not that walking would gain him any more honour than riding in the cart. If he was to be dishonoured, at least he would be comfortable. They really thought he thought it was a way of apology, riding in the cart. Stupid savages. He just had to look around to see that that wasn't the case. He was surrounded by the elderly, children too young to ride and the sickly.  _Khal Ragat,_ they called him, the Cart King. He overheard ser Jorah saying it to his sister, and they both laughed at it. He seethed in anger. Ser Jorah had sworn his sword to him, but has since then done nothing but mock him. He had overheard many of their conversations. "Viserys is less than the shadow of a snake." Then, Dany, his Dany, said that she wouldn't want him to sit on the throne, and that he's not the man who will bring them home. After every thing he had done, after all he had sacrificed for her, she says this. This hurt him far more than any bronze necklace ever could, more even than the whip of her bodyguard. They have turned his little sister into a lawless savage. First, she orders him around like he is some common peasant. When he confronted her about it, she completely forgot her place, acting defiantly against him. When he tried to show her her place, a whip coiled itself tightly around his neck, cutting of his windpipe. Than, that little horseriding piece of scum asks her if she wanted him dead. Him, the Dragon, her older brother, who fed her and protected her, who sold every last thing he had to keep her alive. She said no, but she decided to take his horse away from him, and she made him walk back. Now, Viserys was no stranger to humiliation, but to receive it from his own sister was a particulary nasty blow. Her husband offers him a ride in the carts as "an apology", but he knows this is a mockery as well. Then, his sister orders him to come to her tent, where she tries to dress him like a fucking savage. He tells her this, and asks if she wants to braid his hair as well. She retorts that he does not deserve a braid, because he had never won anything in his life. Shocked to the core by her insolence, he strikes her. She, on the other hand, grabs a heavy bronze belt and hits him with it, in the face. She then yells that the next time he so much as touches her, she will cut off his hands. Before she decides to do it anyway, he makes himself scarce.

He knew that it was useless. Daenerys had fallen in love with her savage and was carrying his offspring. Her loyalty to him, her brother, if it ever even existed, has been all but evaporated. Khal Drogo would never give him an army. He had no need to. If he were to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, it would be for his wife and his unborn child. Why would he have to honour his part of the deal? Why would he ever consent to give Viserys the promised army? The only reason he would have ever considered it is if his wife had asked him, but his wife,  _my sweet little sister,_  could not care less about him. For the first time, he truly felt alone. Or perhaps he had been alone all those years. He wondered what his mother would make of this.  _You are the Dragon,_ she had said,  _don't let anyone else tell you you are anything less_. He missed his mother so much.

He did not know what to do. He was in Vaes Dothrak, wich was the middle of fucking nowhere, and he really had no reason to be here anymore. It was obvious that nobody gave a shit if he lived or died. The only reason he was probably still alive was because it was forbidden to carry steel in the city, as it was a crime to draw blood. 

 He had to get away from here. There was nothing left for him here. Not his sister, not an army, nothing. He would go back to the Free Cities, back to begging, probably. There was nothing else he could do. He had bet everything he had on this match, and it had exploded in his face like a casket of wildfire.

He was standing next to ser Jorah, watching his sister eat a stallion's heart. He wondered why he was here at all, but it proved to be entertaining. He was sure she would not be able to keep it down, but she did. Then, the crones declared she was pregnant with the Stallion that Mounts the World, some sort of prophesied prince that would unite the entire world. She named him Rhaego, after their brohter. The brother that everyone had always admired, the good, noble and strong one. The chanting became louder and louder. He saw her basking in the respect they gave her, respect that no one ever showed for him. It became too much. He had to get out. Mormont was so busy staring at his sister that he did not even realize he was gone. 

 _The Stallion that Mounts the World. It is clear now. If Drogo ever has the intention of invading the Seven Kingdoms, it will be for his son, not for you. But since I am the rightful king, and by the laws of gods and men, I should be the one who takes the throne, I will be a nuisance. And somehow, I don't think that this man is concerned about kingslaying or kinslaying._  He had to get away from here. His life was in danger, he knew this. He had to flee or be killed. _What should I do? Think, Viserys, think. You_ _are the Dragon,_ echoed to his head.Then, he got it. Dragons. Daenerys still had her three dragon eggs. If he sold them, he would have enough money to hire sellswords and to equip a fleet. Then, he could sail back to Westeros, take his throne without the help of Illyrio Mopatis and Khal Drogo, and he would be home. Dany could keep her horselords. He could not care less at this point. And if she was to go to Westeros, he would be seated on the Iron Throne, and she would bow before him. The Dothraki would not stand a chance against a united Westeros under it's true king. He could still win. He could still go home.

He practicly ran towards his tent to collect the sword he purchased recently. If someone would try to stop him, he could wave his sword around. The barbarians could not spill blood in their holy city, but he could. He hoped that it would not come to that. It would be hard to outrun the the entire Dotraki population, who wanted his head because he descrated their holy city. Then, he hurried towards Dany's tent.. The celebration would continue for quite some time, he suspected, so he would have plenty of time to collect the eggs, grab some food,  take his horse and ride away. He would be far away before they would even notice he was missing. They would probably find out about the absence of the eggs than his own. He opened the chest, grabbed one egg and went to put it in a sack, when he heard a sound. He stood up and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Don't let them see you carrying a sword in Vaes Dothrak." Mormont said, "you know the law."

"It's not my law!" he sneered, and he picked up another egg

"They don't belong to you."

"Whatever is hers is also mine." He picked up the final egg. _  
_

"Once, perhaps..." He did not finish, but Viserys knew what he meant. He knew how his sister wasn't his sister anymore.

"If I sell one egg I will have enough to buy a ship. Two eggs, a ship and an army."

"And you have all three." Mormont smirked.  _Do not wake the dragon, old man._

"I need a large army." He could see Mormont scoffing. He walked forward. "I'm the last hope of a dynasty, Mormont. The greatest dynasty this world has ever seen on my shoulders since I was five years old, and no one has ever given me what they gave her in that tent. Never. Not a piece of it. How can I carry what I need to carry without it? Hmm? Who can rule without wealth or fear or love?" Mormont did not say a word, but just kept looking at him. "Oh, you stand there, all nobility and honour. You don't think I see you looking at my little sister, hmm? Don't think I know what you want? I don't care"  _Not anymore._ "You can have her. She can be queen of the savages and dine on the finest bloody horseparts, and you can dine on wichever parts of her you like." Now he saw a reaction.  _Dany's man through and through. If you ever set foot on the Seven Kingdoms after I win my crown, I will have you executed, you faithless, disloyal dog._ "But let me go!" He moved towards the exit, but Mormont blocked his way.

"You can go. You can't have the eggs."

"You swore an oath to me? Does loyalty means nothing to you?"

"It means everything to me!"  _Loyalty to my sister, not me. Not the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms._

"And yet here you stand."

"And yet here I stand."

With a sneer of disdain, he threw the sack on the ground, and Mormont moved away to let him pass. In his eyes, Viserys saw the scorn the man had desperately tried to hide in the beginning, but he knew scorn when he saw it. After all, it was the only thing people gave him these days. 

****

He was deep in his cups that night, brooding over his surrender to Mormont, who had sworn an oath of allegiance to him, but betrayed him for his sister. It was not fair. Nothing in his life was fair. He was forced to flee for his life when he was five through no fault of his own, his mother died after giving birth to his sister, entrusting him with her care. Five years later, his protector dies, leaving him and his sister an outcast on the streets. He begs for help, he sells everything he have to keep his sister safe and fed, and yet everyone mocks him, as if the situation he was in was his fault, and he cannot get out of that pit because he is a failure. Then, finally, when he thought he would have his chance, that joy turned to ash in his mouth. 

_Khal Drogo will not give me my army because of that bargain we struck. I can't buy an army, because for that I need the eggs, and my sister's royal lapdog is guarding them like he swore to guard me. There is only one option left. I'll have to claim my army._

If he was sober, he would not have done it. He would have known how it would have ended. But the drink had clouded his judgement, and it seemed like a reasonable enough idea to him. If Khal Drogo failed to uphold his end of the bargain, why there was no reason for him to uphold his. He wanted his little sister back, the one that used to crawl in his bed when she had nighmares, the one that he told stories from the Seven Kingdoms. And although her baby was half a horse, he was still Blood of the Dragon and his nephew, so they know he would not hurt them, right? He just wanted Khal Drogo to see that when you make a deal with the Dragon, you must keep it.

*****

He saw the gold stream falling. He screamed and closed his eyes. The gold covered his head and was dripping on his shoulder. They released him, and he fell on the floor.

For a while, there was nothing but darkness, but he could hear his sister's voice.

"Fire cannot kill a Dragon."

 

 

 


	2. Defying expectations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to HBO and George R.R. Martin

He could feel the molten gold pouring over his face, dripping on his clothes where it made large gaping holes. He could feel the heat on his skin. He closed his eyes so that they would not be exposed to the liquid. He screamed in antitipation of the horrendous pain that would follow, because, if the stories were right, being burned is extremely painful. But the searing heat that he was expecting did not come. It was warm, but it did not burn him like he thought it would. It was quite soothing, actually, like he had submerged in a hot bath. He could hear by the gasps of the crowd that something was amiss. Actually, he knew something was amiss because he could still hear them. 

He was not dead? How was that possible? Molten gold had been poured over his head and not only was he still alive, he did not have a single burn. He used the hand of his good arm to wipe the liquid out of his eyesockets and opened them. The Dothraki were staring at him like he had just returned from the dead, and Khal Drogo had taken several steps back and looked at him apprehensively, one could almost say a tad fearful.

"Fire cannot kill a dragon. He is a dragon!" he heard a voice. His head turned and he looked straight into the eyes of his sister, who was staring at him with a strange fascination. Then, a thought sprang to his mind.  _You would have let them kill me. You would have just stood there and watched your husband kill your brother._ Suddenly, another thought overcame him. His sister's husband had tried to kill him. And she did nothing. The molten gold, fitting as it would have been, did not achieve this goal, because he was a dragon, and fire could not kill a dragon, but there were plenty of other ways to dispose of him without drawing blood. The Dothraki might be too shocked to do anything now, but once they regained their senses, they would finish their dirty work and finish him. After all, he had carried steel in their secret city, drawn blood within the confines of their holy grounds and threatened the wife of the greatest of their  _khals,_ the  _khaleesi_ who carried the Stallion Who Mounts The World within her. If he stayed, his life was as good as forfeited.  _  
_

No longer restrained, he struggled to get on his feet, his right arm a blaze of pain. When he managed to get on his feet, he staggered out of the tent, trying to get to his own. His horrible visage elicited many a scream from fearful women, and children were wailing when they beheld his golden crown. When he was at last in the refuge of his own tent, he ran straight at the water basing, trying to wash it of. It was very difficult to get out of his hair, because some of it had already begun to harden, but he could not cut it off, because he had nothing to cut it with. In the end, he managed to get most of it out of his platinum hair.

Because he had planned to steal the dragon eggs and flee, he was already packed and ready to go. But to where? He could not stay here, but neither could he go back to Pentos. He had boched the plan, so why would Illyrio give him shelter and food? Plus, he was now certain that the Magister had his own plans, and he, rightful king of Westeros, was merely a pawn in his game. He scoffed.  _Rightful king of Westeros. A place I won't ever see again. I have failed you, mother. Not only have I failed to gain back my birthright and avenge my family, I also broke my promise to you. I did not treat Dany the way she should have been treated. I have hurt her, mother. I am no better then Father was when he hurt you. I have hurt her, threatened her, sold her to a Horse Lord, all for a crown. And I got one. Perhaps it's the one I deserve. Most likely it will be the only one I will ever wear._

He truly had nowhere to go. Westeros, his home, was still as onobtainable as ever, Vaes Dothrak was also not an option. He could go back to begging in the Free Cities, but now he had absolutely nothing to offer them, so it would be pointless. Maybe he should just settle down somewhere, find work, a farm or something (how difficult can it be), perhaps one day find a wife who is good and kind, and try to forget that he was a Targaryen. That might be the best plan. If Dany and her horselord should one day conquer Westeros for her son, all the better. A Targaryen on the Iron Throne again, one who can make people love her by eating a horse heart. She would be a good queen, a better ruler than he would have been, probably. Because, if there was one word you could associate with Viserys Targaryen, it was  _failure._ He thought about his mother, what she would say if she knew her son had given up. She would not be angry, he knew that. She would want her son to be happy. A simple life might be the chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the gods. Yes, that was what he was going to do. Go to the Free Cities, dye his hair or something, perhaps cut it off, gain some money, buy a small farm somewhere and live out the rest of his days in exile. 

He grabbed his bags and wanted to leave, but then he heard voices outside of his tent.  _Too late.They have come for me. I knew I should not have hoped. When in my life have the Gods shown me any kindness._ He dropped his bags and fell on his knees, defeated. Tears were streaming down his face. He saw the tentflap moving and his sister and Mormont entered. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw him sitting on his knees. When Daenerys stepped forward, he scrambled backwards, madly, fear in his eyes, trying to get away from her. 

"No... no... go away, leave me alone. Stay away. I did not do anything, I swear. Please don't. Stay away from me." He knocked over several small tables and chairs in his desperate attempt to put as much distance between him and his sister as he possibly could. His arm was throbbing when he leaned on it, and he screeched in pain. 

"Ser Jorah, could you please wait outside and ensure no one disturbs us. I have to talk to my brother." Dany spoke, his eyes never leaving him. Mormont grunted and left the tent, leaving only him and his sister. When she stepped forwards again, he cried out.

"No, please Dany, you don't have to kill me. I'll be gone, I swear it. You need never set eyes on me again. You can have the throne if you want, I don't care. Just don't kill me. I'll leave and never come back." He was crying now, sobbing desperately, something the Old Viserys, proud and ignorant as he was, would have never done. But Fire changes a man.

By now, he was practicly trying to climb the canvas, and there was no escape anymore. When she reached him, she knelt down, put her hand on his chin and forced him to look her in the eyes.

"Calm down, brother, no one is going to kill you. No one is going to hurt you. You are safe. For now, at least."

He did not believe her, how could he. "You're lying. He send you hear to finish me of yourself, didn't he? You will bring him my heart and eat it in front of him. You want me dead."

"If I wanted you dead, I would have but to say the word, and five men would burst in and strangle you, no blood spilled. No, it is because of me that you are still alive."

"Why would I trust you?"  he asked, still trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

"What choice do you have?" she answered, a mirthless small smile on her face.

"No, no, that's not right. They were going to kill me. I knew it, I saw it in their eyes. And you stood there. You stood there and watched as if I was a complete stranger. No, you would have shown pity for the stranger. You were looking at me with those empty eyes, like you did not care at all. You would have let them kill me without even blinking, without a single reaction."

"Yes." she simply said, but it was as if she hit him with the bronze belt again. He flinched and crawled away from her.  _Is this what I have done to my little sister? Is this my doing?_

"But..  _why?"_

"You bared steel in Vaes Dothrak. You threatened me in front of my husband and countless other fearsome warriors. I could have done nothing to save you even if I wanted to. But you threatened to cut out my baby, my little baby boy." he cowered before her anger, like she was the dragon and not him. Most likely she was. "Yes, I was willing to let them kill you for that. NO ONE touches my baby, least of all my cowardly, weak, pathetic excuse for a brother."

"Did you really think I would have done it? He is my cousin, for the gods' sake, even if he is the spawn of some horselord . I would never kill you or him, you know that. What kind of monster do you think I am?"

"The kind of monster that beats and abuses his little sister. The kind of monster that is cruel to everyone he can be cruel against so that he might forget his own misery. The kind of monster that sells his own sister to a 'savage' horse lord for a crown and a throne. THAT kind of monster." She stood up and looked at him with cold eyes, and he shirked away from them. "Well? You got nothing to say in your defence?"  

He desperately tried to come up with an excuse, with any reason, but came up empty. There was no possible way he could try to undo the damage he had wrought. Tears streaming out of his eyes, he hung his head in shame, curling himself up in a ball, whimpering pitifully. He would die here. He would never see the shores of his beloved Westeros again. He would die, right here, in this tent, with no one to mourn his passing. His body would be left in a ditch or thown to the dogs. He stopped trying to get away from his sister, for where could he go? There was no safe place for him anymore. He wept openly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't hurt me, Dany. I'll go! You'll never have to see me again. You can go to Westeros and take Father's throne if you wish. Just let me go. I'll find some nice quiet place to live out my days. I won't bother anybody. I won't hurt anyone. I'll be good, I promise. Please! Please!" he begged, hugging himself _The great king Viserys III Targaryen, crying like a beaten dog_ a mocking voice in his head seemed to say. And it was right. All his life, he had brought nothing but shame on the Targaryen name. Suddenly, he felt a small hand on his shoulder. He flinched, and the hand was removed. He opened one eye and saw his sister looking down on him, with a strange look in her eyes. She did not say anything, she just looked into his eyes. Viserys had never noticed how beautiful his little sister's eyes were, the eyes that once shone with love every time their eyes met. "I'm sorry." he whispered a final time. 

She could not hold his gaze any longer and looked down at the floor. She was crying as well, and suddenly he remembered how young she actually was. Just a girl, really. A girl that ate a horse heart, was pregnant with the promised prince of the horse lords of Essos and had watched her husband trying to kill her brother, her only living relative, only to fail and having to confront said brother, all in one day. And now, she was the one who would decide if he would live or die. 

Before the silence became unbearable, Dany stood up, wiped the tears from her eyes and walked towards the tent flap. Before she reached it, she turned around, and said with cool detachment: "I would counsel against leaving, brother. My protection is the only thing that stands between you and an angry Dothraki mob calling for your blood. Your survival will only help you for a while, before they realise there are other ways to kill you. If you flee, I cannot protect you any longer. I have already spoken to Drogo, and he has agreed that he will let you live,for now, and he told his khalasar not to harm you. Pray that his words will be heeded. But they will do nothing to help you either. You are nothing to them, lower then the slaves, lower then the dogs. Ser Jorah has agreed to look after you and protect you. Be grateful for that. We will not speak again unless I command so. Do you understand that?"

The old Viserys would have balked at her words, furious about the fact that she was giving him orders again, but the new Viserys nodded meekly, knowing that it was the wisest thing to do. He could not outrun a khalasar. 

"Good." she said, and was about to turn around and walk out, but she hesitated. Then, she looked him straight in the eye, and a lonely tear made it's way down her cheeck.

"I would have mourned you, you know. I would not have mourned the man you have become, I would have mourned the boy you once were. Because I loved that boy with all my heart, more than I have loved anything else in this world, and it is my greatest wish that someday, I might be able to see him again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got around to finish the second chapter in my Viserys saga. It is a lot shorter than the first chapter, but the first one was kind of an introduction of sorts, a prelude if you will, to the main story, setting up the major characters and providing a little background on Viserys, trying to determine his thoughts and feelings, and also establishing his relationship with his sister. The story actually begins with this chapter, the aftermath of the crowning ceremony. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy it (I certainly enjoyed writing it). If you do, please give a comment and / or kudos. It is always great to receive some feedback. If you have any suggestions or, dare I say it, criticism, let me know.
> 
> PS: I have rewritten most of this chapter, because some of you pointed out (and I agree with those people), that Viserys' behaviour was off, that he could not remain so composed as to explain everything to Dany. Plus, it gives me more to write in the next chapters. I still have no idea where I'll be going with this fic, but I guess we'll see  
> See you soon (I hope)


	3. From the Ashes

When Dany left, all Viserys could do was stare straight ahead of him, with wide, empty eyes.  _I'm alive,_ he thought incredulously.  _I'm still alive._ Normally, this should have been cause to cheer, but his current predicament left him robbed of joy.  _But I'm stuck here. Trapped. Surrounded by tens of thousands of savages who would love to place my head on a pike. How long before they ignore Drogo's command and have their way with me._ Dany thought she was offering him mercy, while she was only delaying his execution. What should he do? Ignore Dany's warnings, try to escape to the Free Cities, or stay here? Both ways ended in certain death. 

He did not hear the tent opening, but cried out in pain when rough hands grabbed his right arm, still tilted in an awkward angle. "Broken" a voice said. "We'll have to put it in a splint. Take of your clothes. They are ruined anyway. I'll get you some Dothraki clothes. You would do best to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Khal Drogo's authority is not so absolute as it seems, and he's not the only Khal you angered today."

"Mormont!" he croacked, and the knight looked up at him. To his surprise, the contempt that was so obvious the last time they talked was gone. "Why are you doing this?"

"Out of loyalty." he simply said, before looking at his arm once more.

"Loyalty? You would have let me die back there. You swore to serve and protect me, but you did nothing." 

"I did not say it was loyalty to you!" he did not even bother to look up from the arm. "The moment you raised your blade towards your sister was the moment you lost my loyalty. I am here because she asked me to look after you." 

"Thank you!" Viserys said demurely, and Mormont looked up in surprise, but nodded. 

"You are a lucky man, my lord, to have a sister as kind and merciful as her. Not many people would let you get away with what you did back there. She has shown you a great kindness. Remember that!"

Viserys said nothing, looking straight ahead. His head was filled with thoughts, but they all fled when Mormont tied the splint around his arm. The pain was too much to bear, and he yelled out. Mormont looked at him with a grim sort of satisfaction. "That'll do. Now stay here and don't move while I get you some clothes." the knight left the tent.

_He is right. I don't deserve what she did for me today. I don't deserve her as a sister._ Then, an old image appeared in his mind. A young Viserys sitting on a chair, an even younger Daenerys sitting on his lap, arms around him and her face nuzzled in his neck. He was stroking her silver hair and whispering soft, comforting words to her, while she giggled and snuggled closer to him. Slowly, the image faded. 

_Such a small, beautiful creature. Sweet and innocent. And I hurt her. I struck her. I blamed her for our misery. I have made her fear and hate me. I made her stop loving me._

_By the Seven, what have I done?_

****

After half an hour, Ser Jorah returned with my new clothes. Dothraki clothes, of course, and not the finery Daenerys had offered him not so long ago. They were ordinary Dothraki clothes, like most of the riders wore. He accepted them without complaint, and even put on a hideous cap to hide his platinum hair, his most distinct feature. When he looked at himself in the water bassin, he no longer saw Viserys, heir to the Iron Throne, but a young, dirty boy in smelly leathers and with a broken right arm. He could pass for a slave from Westeros or the Free Cities. For they reasoned, if he stayed out of sight, they would eventually forget about him. 

But even in disguise, he still did not dare to leave his tent. They were out there, he knew. For the first time in his life, the Usurper's hired knives were far from his mind. There was danger closer to home to worry about, after all. Luckily for him, Ser Jorah was there, and although he was loath to admit it, he was grateful for that. His feelings towards the knight were still conflicting. On one hand, he hated the man for ruining his plans and for being the Oathbreaker he was, on the other hand he protected him now, even if it was because his sister asked him to. She knew how to inspire loyalty, sure, but in this case, he could plainly see why Mormont had abandoned Viserys and pledged his loyalty to Daenerys instead. Even a blind man could see that Mormont was in love with his sister. Before the Incident, he had taunted the knight with it, because it made him feel better that another man was also not getting what he wanted most. Now, he did not bring it up anymore.

A few days passed, and he and Mormont were eating in their tent. The horsemeat was as disgusting as ever, but he did not voice his complaint, for he knew he was lucky that they bothered to give him something at all. So he chewed away, hoping to soften up the tough meat enough so he could swallow it. He could see Ser Jorah grinning at him, clearly he found the whole situation amusing. Viserys had half a mind to throw the meat in his face, but it would not do to anger his only protector. So he bravely continued until he could swallow the whole thing down. He then grabbed his waterskin to wash it down. 

Slowly but surely, the silence was becoming unbearable, until he could stand it no longer.

"Mormo... Ser Jorah, can I ask you a question?" he asked hesitantely, not wanting to anger the knight.

Mormont raised an eyebrow in response, but nodded anyway.

"My sister... does she ever...  _talk_ about me? Does she...ask after me?" Although Mormont was assigned to protect him, he still spend a lot of time with Daenerys. Viserys did not mind, for although he was safer with the knight around, he felt very uncomfortable. He knew that the knight despised him. Then again, who didn't?

"She has made inquiries regarding your well-being, yes." Jorah admitted, "as much as it pains her, she still cares about you, I think."

"But why? I treated her very poorly over the years. I have given her plenty of reasons  _not_ to care about me."

"You're her brother, the only family she had. Once, there was a time when you cared about her, when you comforted her, when you were there for her. Once, you deserved her love. And because of that boy, a part of her will always love you, no matter what happens between you and her."

A tear made it's way down his cheek and fell on the horsemeat. "I've been so stupid. All these years, I've treated her like she was a burden, like she was the reason we were in our predicament. All those years of failures and I vented my frustration on the one person I should have loved above all else, the one I swore to protect. And now she hates me."

"Yes, you have been stupid and reckless and foolish. Yes, you've treated her poorly." Mormont said "But she does not hate you. She is angry with you, disappointed with you, but she will, she CAN never hate you. You are her brother.  She hasn't given up hope that they boy she grew up with, who took care of her, is still somewhere in there. She WANTS to love you."

"How can she, when even I have little love for the man I have become?" more tears streamed out of his eyes, and he buried his face in his hands. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He opened one bleary eye and saw Ser Jorah staring at him intently.

"She wants to forgive you, Your Grace. She wants to love you. So show her! Show that you can change, show that you can be worthy of her love. Besides" he added with a grin, "it might do you some good. And, it just might keep you alive."

"You really think so?"

"I do. It's gonna be a long way, but I believe you can do it!"

"And you are going to help me?" he asked.

"Aye! I will. For her."he nodded in agreement and held out his hand for Viserys to shake. He looked at it for a second, then grabbed it and shaked.Ser Jorah grinned: "I still despise you, you know."

"The feeling is mutual." Viserys murmured, not expecting the knight to hear, but he burst out laughing, shook his head and went back to chewing his meat.

_He is right. Perhaps not all is lost. What is broken might still be mended._ It would be long and hard, especially when in the middle of a Dothraki horde who wanted to kill him, and with her married to the man who gave him his death sentence, but it was by far the best chance he had, not only for reconciliation with his sister, but also to save his own skin.  He looked up at the knight, who was still chewing on his horsemeat, and for the first time in a long while, he was wholeheartedly glad Ser Jorah Mormont was there.

*****

The next morning, Viserys was awoken by ser Jorah, who threw some clean clothes in his face.

"Get up, Your Grace. I thought you might fancy a little walk today. You've been hiding in this tent for far too long. Some fresh air might do you some good. A caravan just arrived in the Western Markets. Illyrio may have sent a letter. Care for a visit?"

"I'd rather stay inside and live, if that's all the same to you." Viserys sneered at the knight. 

"You'll have to come outside at some point." the knight pointed out. "And it will be better if we try out your disguise in a place where it is forbidden to spill blood. Once we're out of Vaes Dothrak, no sacred law will protect you."

"Fine!" he huffed, and he dressed himself in the stinking leathers, pulled up his hair and hid it in a cap.

"A word of advice: avoid looking people in the eyes. Westerosi slaves are not uncommon amongst the Dothraki, but slaves with lilac eyes tend to stand out." 

Just when they were finished dressing him, one of Dany's handmaidens, Jhiqui, entered the tent. She did not look at him, but looked straight at Mormont.

"Jorah the Andal." she said "The Khaleesi requests your presence."

"Thank you, Jhiqui. Tell her that I will come as soon as I'm able." She nodded and left. "Change of plans, Your Grace. It looks like we're going to see your sister." 

Viserys merely nodded demurely. He was not sure if he was supposed to be excited, nervous or scared. Ser Jorah had said that she did not hate him, that she wanted to love and forgive him, but she would have let him die that day in the tent. He did not know what to think."

Mormont left the tent, and Viserys trailed after him, desperate to draw as little attention to him as possible. However, even without the silver hair and the lilac eyes giving it away, a tall, thin pale man dressed in Dothraki leathers was not a common sight in Vaes Dothrak, and he felt that people were staring at him, groups of women even stopping to talk as they passed and then whispering fervently once he was out of earshot. At last, they reached Dany's tents. Viserys was too afraid to remain outside, but also scared that he would come face to face with Khal Drogo if he entered, so he just remained at the entrance, trying to make himself as small as possible. He did manage to overhear Ser Jorah talking to his sister. Apparently, she was trying to convince her husband to go West with his army to make the crossing to Westeros. From what he heard, the Khal was still refusing.  _If he is unwilling to conquer Westeros even for his son, why on earth did Illyrio say he would do it for me?_ Not for the first time, Viserys suspected that the fat old man had been playing him all along, but to what purpose? So Daenerys would sit on the Iron Throne? Did he think that she would make a better ruler then him? And how naive was Dany to think that if she could not change the Khal's mind, Mormont could? He did comfort her, promised that they would go home, and it made his heart ache. How many times had he promised her the exact same thing? And how many times had he failed?

Then, to get her mind off the matter, Mormont proposed a visit to the Western Markets. His now heavily pregnant sister agreed, and ordered a litter to be prepared. When she walked passed him, she noticed him for the first time as their eyes met. Her eyes widened in shock. She stood still, she swallowed, and for a moment it seemed like she might say anything, but then, she just gave a barely perceiveable nod and left. He stood there, eyes on the ground, until Ser Jorah gave him a gentle shove.

***

After a short time trailing behind his sisters litter, they reached the Western Markets. It was noisy and colorfull, and it reminded him a bit of the bazaars they had visited in the Free Cities. Every time they went to a bazaar, Dany was always happily playing and taking in the sights, staring at the marvels the merchants had for sale, though they seldom had money to buy anything. While she was playing, he would meet with wealhty merchant princes in hope of gaining support for his efforts to reclaim their homeland. Although they were always courteous to his face, he could see the condescension in their eyes. Every time, he was politely turned down, and when he returned to Dany, he was disappointed and depressed. That would then turn into frustration and anger.

Dany got out of the litter and was walking with Ser Jorah, talking animatedly.

"But can't you help me MAKE him understand?" she asked him.

"The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons. Have patience, Khaleesi. We will go home, I promise you." the knight replied, not showing any sign of the irritation he must have been feeling.

"My brother.." at this point, she quickly glanced in his direction, but then looked at Jorah again, "is a fool, I know, but he is the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms/" At this, the knight snickered. "Have I said something funny, Ser?"she asked, a little bit annoyed at his lack of respect.

"Forgive me, Khaleesi, but your ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, didn't seize six of the kingdoms because he had a right, he had no right to them, he seized them because he could." he reminded her.

"And because he had dragons." Dany added.

Ser Jorah sighed before replying: "Well, having a few dragons makes things easier." 

"You don't believe it!" she accused him

"Have you ever seen a dragon, Khaleesi?" he asked. "I believe what my eyes and ears report. As for the rest, it was three hundred years ago, who knows what might have happened. Now if you'll pardon me, I'll seek out the merchant captain, see if he has any letters for me."

"Well, I'll come with you." Dany stated.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself." he interrupted her. "Enjoy the market. I will rejoin you soon enough." Dany was suprised by his sudden refusal, and when Jorah walked past Viserys and he moved to join him, he said. "You stay too. Stay with her. It's her you'll have to convince, not me." Then, he left.

_Curious. Why wouldn't he want us to accompany him? Could he be hiding something?"_ Then, he noticed that Dany, her handmaidens and protectors had moved on, and he quickened his pace to rejoin them. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone in the Markets. He caught up with them at a wineseller's stand. They were listening with rapt attention to the merchant, who was praising his wares in what he assumed was Dothraki.  _Perhaps I should learn a few words.. If they don't know I can understand them, I might learn more about what they plan to do to me._

_"_ My son already has his name," Dany replied, "but I'll try your summerwine. Just a taste."

The wineseller was surprised :"My Lady, you are from Westeros."

Another of her handmaidens, Doreah, the one he gave to her on her wedding day, stepped forward. "You have the honour of adressing Daenerys of the House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms." she announced proudly. The man's eyes widened in shock and he bowed. 

"Princess" he said reverently.

"Rise!" Dany commanded. "I'd still like to taste that wine."

"That?" the wineseller looked at the cup before throwing it's content on the ground. "Dornish swill. Not worthy of a princess. I have a dry red, from the Arbor. Nectar of the Gods. Let me give you a cask." The man started looking around frantically. "A gift!"

_I don't like this._ Viserys thought.  _I don't like this at all. What is wrong with that summerwine? Not worthy of a princess? This is not right!"_

"You honor me, ser" she murmured sweetly.

The seller rummaged around a bit before grabbing a cask and running back to her. "The honor is all mine." he said excitedly. One of Dany's bloodriders came forward to accept the cask. Then, he adressed Dany again. "You know, there are many in your homeland that pray for your return, princess."

"I hope to repay your kindness someday." she said sincerely to the merchant, who seemed to be working up quite a bit of a sweat. 

_Why is he sweating that much? It isn' t that warm, and he does not look sick. Nervous, yes. But why would he be nervous. The worst thing that could happen if is she turned down his offer._ Suddenly, a cold hand gripped his heart. Without thinking, he stepped forward and tried to pull the cask out of the bloodriders hands. The bloodrider stared at his eyes for a moment, and his eyes widened when they recognized him. He shifted the cask in one hand and punched Viserys is the stomach. He fell on the floor, gasping for breath.

"Viserys, what are you doing?" Dany asked, in a surprised but still cold voice. 

"The wine." he wheezed. "Don't drink it! Poisoned. The Usurper..."

Dany looked at him, and then back at the wineseller, and then back at him. Disbelief shone in her eyes. "This kind man offers me a gift, and you accuse him of attempted murder. You really are unbelievable" she said, but right when they were about to leave, Ser Jorah returned. He looked at the wineseller, the bloodrider and the cask, Daenerys and Viserys on the ground and stepped in. He said something in Dothraki and the bloodrider put down the cask.

"Is something wrong?" Dany asked.

"I have a thirst." Ser Jorah said. "Open it."

The wineseller looked truly nervous now. "The wine is for the Khaleesi. It's not for the likes of you." he stammered. Ser Jorah did not seem deterred, however.

"Open it." he said. 

The wineseller looked from him at Dany, who was looking back to him with suspicion in her eyes. He put down the cask and opened it.

"Pour!" Ser Jorah commanded.

"It would be a crime to drink a wine this rich without giving it time to breathe." the wineseller tried to explain, but Dany interrupted him.

"Do as he says." she commanded.

The merchant steeled his features. "As the princess commands." and he proceeded to fill a cup with the liquid. Dany and Jorah shared a look, while Viserys got off from the ground, dusting  himself off. The wineseller gave the cup to Ser Jorah, who immediately smelled it.

"Sweet, isn't it?" the wineseller commented. "Can you smell the fruit, ser?" After a few seconds, he urged Ser Jorah: "Taste it, my lord. Tell me that is not the finest wine that ever touched your tongue." Ser Jorah brought the cup to his lips, and Viserys was ready to yell out when he gave the cup back to the merchant.

"You first." The flash of panic in the wineseller's eyes was clear to see.

"Me? I'm afraid I'm not worthy of the vintage. Besides, it is a poor wine merchant who would drink up his own wares." he laughed nervously.

"You. Will. Drink." Dany snapped, looking threateningly at the merchant. The wine merchant looked between her and Ser Jorah and raised the glass to his lips, seemingly going to drink it. Right before the glass touched his lips, however, he threw the glass away, threw over some barrels and made a run for it. Unfortunately for him, he had to pass Viserys to do so, and when he did so, Viserys tripped the man, and he fell on the ground, hard. Luckily, no blood was spilled. The bloodriders were on the merchant in a second, restraining him and taking him away, while Ser Jorah guided Daenerys back to her litter. When they passed Viserys, he gave him a tiny smile.

****

They chained the wineseller to a pole in the center of a tent. Dany and Ser Jorah were standing a few feet away from him, discussing the punishment. Viserys sat in down in the shadows, just watching. He did not know what punishment would be in store for him. After all, it was forbidden for him to talk to Dany unless she said so. 

He heard Ser Jorah confirming what he had already suspected: the assassin was sent by the Usurper Robert Baratheon in an attempt to murder him, his sister and his nephew. Ser Jorah had received a letter from Illyrio warning them. Viserys did not need letters; he had been on the run for the Usurper's hired knives for the greatest part of his life, he knew when a man's intentions were less then honorable. Dany, however, did not. He had often warned her about the knives, but she had never taken it very seriously. Probably because she could never remember any attempts. He could. There had been plenty of them, when they were residing in a merchant prince's palace or the streets of Tyrosh, or any other place they had visited. He had always shielded her from those attempts, not wanting to scare her further.

The, the tent opened and some Dothraki warriors entered, followed by Khal Drogo. He immediately went to the prisoner, whose breathing became more erratic when in the presence of the intimidating Khal. He looked down at him with pure disgust, before taking a torch from one of his men, throwing it into the fire and rushing straight towards Dany, enveloping her in his strong arms. He whispered a few words to her before going to Ser Jorah. He placed his hands on his shoulder and muttered somehting in Dothraki. Viserys could not understand any word he said, but he had a feeling Drogo was thanking him for saving his wife. Then, at last, he looked at Viserys.

The minutes those large black eyes locked eyes with him, he began to tremble softly. The last time he had seen those eyes, the man whom they belonged to had tried to kill him with a pot of molten gold. And judging by the look Drogo was giving him, he had not forgotten it either. Viserys had to surpress the urge to run away screaming. But he forced himself to remain calm and look into the eyes of his would-be killer. For what seemed like a long time, they just stared at each other, neither willing to say anything or do anything. At long last, the Khal gave a tiny nod with his head, so tiny that Viserys thought he had imagined it, and most likely he had, before Drogo returned his attention to his wife, or, to be more precise, his wife's belly. Then, he began to roar something in Dothraki. He only caught a few words, not enough to understand exactly what it is he was saying, but his men began to cheer uproariously. When it was over, Ser Jorah came over to him and gave him a soft kick, telling him to get up.

"I'll tell you everything in your tent, Your Grace. Best not to overstay your welcome." he said. Viserys nodded and stood up. Just when he was about to leave the tent, however, a voice called out.

"Viserys?"

Slowly, he turned around to meet a couple of violet eyes staring at him intently.  "Yes?" he asked softly.

"Thank you." Dany said, and she gave him a tiny smile.

"Don't mention it." he said, and he left the tent, walking into the cool night air. 

He had made progress today. It would still be a long time to go before Daenerys would trust, let alone love him again, but after today, he felt that it might not be so impossible as he once feared.  _And, who knows, maybe the Gods will let me bring her back home as well._ He would honor the promises he made to his mother on her deathbed. He WILL go home. He WILL revenge his family.

But most importantly, he WILL take care of and protect his little sister.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, the third chapter is finally up. Took me long enough. The reason why I did not update this sooner is because I started this fic without a clear goal in mind, or any thoughts about how the story would progress. Also, I wasn't very happy with my second chapter, so I have rewritten it slightly so that Viserys was no longer so OOC. 
> 
> There, I've done my job for today. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, leave a comment and/or give kudos. And if you have any suggestions on how the story might progress from here, let me know.


	4. A wolf in sheep's clothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George R. R. Martin and HBO

The wineseller lasted three days, three agonizingly hot days, before he crumbled in sheer exhaustion. Viserys was impressed with his endurance. But his feat of strenght did not save him from being thrown to the rabid dogs that accompanied the Khalasar wherever it went. Viserys gulped when he saw the savage beast rip the body apart. _That could have been you. That could still be you._ He had no idea what his sister would have done with his corpse. He hoped that, despite what he did, she would have still found it in her heart to make sure he received a proper burial.

Viserys was riding at the outskirts of the Khalasar, accompanied, as always, by Mormont. The knight's presence was comforting, mostly because of the broadsword on his hip. He might have garnered some goodwill by helping to foil the assassination attempt, for example being allowed to ride a horse again, if you could call the sorry excuse for a living being he mounted each morning a horse, but many of the Dothraki still hissed when he rode by, and some even spat in his face. He hated it, and he hated them, but he endured it nonetheless. Humiliation is a small price to pay for a life, after all.

His musings were cut short when his horse once again bucked, and he barely managed to stay seated in the saddle. He heard people snickering, and some of them even openly laughed mockingly at his expense. Even Mormont was smirking at him, an insolent grin that, despite his constant reliance on the knight and the fact that he appreciated his existence more and more, he still wanted to slap of his face.

"Problems, Your Grace?" he asked innocently.

"Oh shut up you!" Viserys huffed, and the knight chuckled. "Talk about a poisoned gift!" The horse he had received for his rescue was truly the ugliest animal he had ever laid eyes on, with a foul temper to match his looks. When it was first brought to him, it had tried to bite him in the face, and their relationship only went downhill from there. It would constantly try to throw him of its back, it would not listen to any command he gave it and had the unpleasant habit of urinating against his tent every night. But then again, so did most of the Dothraki.

In five days time, it had become his best friend in the whole Khalasar, maybe even in the whole world.

They had left Vaes Dothrak five days ago, striking south and west, Drogo and Dany up front, the wineseller running naked behind them, chained at throat and wrist, fastened to the halter of Dany's horse. The rest of the Khalasar followed. Viserys and Jorah mostly rode at the back of the Khalasar, where there were fewer warriors and more women and children. They would spit on him all the same, but he was marginally less afraid for his life amongst them then amongst those arakh-wielding brutes. But still, the poisoned glances they shot at him were enough to put him ill at ease. He heard them whispering behind his back, accompanied by withering glares.

They passed a particulary large group of young men, who were talking animatedly to each other, and despite still not understanding the guttural sounds that was Dothraki, he managed to hear the words "Khal Rhaggat" (the name stuck, apparently) before the speaker grabbed his manhood and pretended to cut it of, before turning an imaginary person around and taking it from behind. When the youth saw that Viserys was staring, he grinned evilly at him. Viserys shuddered and turned back to Mormont, who wasn't looking at him.

"Do you want to know what he said?" Mormont said casually.

"I don't think that will be necessary. His intentions were abundantly clear." He turned around and could barely repress a shiver when he saw that the youth was openly leering at him. He faced Mormont again, who shrugged and spurred his horse. After a few seconds, he managed to convince his foul-tempered mare to do the same and went to ride next to Mormont.

"How many?" he asked, knowing that Mormont would understand him.

"I would say that all of them want you dead, but only half of them would actually defy Drogo's order. Still, that's about 20 000 warriors, not counting the women and children." _20 000 warriors. I am surrounded by an army that wants to see my head on a spike and my body thrown to the dogs_

"And you will defend me?" The knight gave him a sideway glance before looking forward, where he could faintly see Daenerys at the head of the column.

"Aye, I will defend you, Your Grace. But I won't die for you. If the entire Khalasar comes howling for your blood, I will not throw my life away and try to deny them."  _I thought so. He would die for Dany, but not for me._ _Then again, his loyalty to her isn't based on the fact that she is a Targaryen. No,_ he thought as he looked at the knight from the corner of his eye,  _no, you don't look at her like a knight looks at a princess, but as a man looks as a woman._   _He is lucky that Drogo hasn't caught him looking at his wife. After all, a cockless knight can serve just as well._ Viserys grinned at the thought. He wasn't sure how he felt about the older knight, but the fact that he lusted after his sister didn't exactly improve his image, although his sister was lovely, even in the rags she wore these days. _  
_

"Then, perhaps you would be willing to teach me to defend myself?" Viserys inquired and the older man turned his head sharply, looking at him in surprise. Then, a small smile appeared on his face and he nodded in approval.

***

The following day, they started their training schedule. They would rise an hour before the Khalasar departed, and after supper, they would train another hour before heading of to bed. In the first lesson, it became abundantly clear just how woefully inept he was at even the basics of swordplay, but never having received any formal training, it was to be expected. Mormont had him disarmed, in the dirt and the point of his sword at Viserys' neck before he could even blink. Viserys glared at him, but took the proferred hand, picked up his sword again, but before he managed to lift it, he was already lying facedown in the dirt. By the end of the hour, Viserys was panting with exertion, while Mormont did not even break a sweat. He truly and utterly despised the man at this moment, and especially the mocking, shit-eating grin he was sporting. He threw Viserys a damp piece of cloth before walking away.

The next few days were no better, as he improved but little, and Mormont's jeering attitude often caused him to fly into a rage and storm off for five minutes before returning, picking up the sword again and facing the knight, who would always smirk knowingly in his direction. But after a few more sessions, his skills were improving, and often Mormont would end the lesson with a nod of approval. Between the grueling sparring sessions and hours spend in the saddle during the day, Viserys was beyond tired when he finally crawled into his tent at night for some well-deserved sleep. When he rose the next morning, his limbs would be stiff and they would burn, and only after a few minutes of ministration they could work properly. The days were long and hard, and he was exhausted for most of the time.

It was the happiest he felt in a long while.

In some ways, it felt like he was taking back control of his life. Being able to actually do something about his situation, little as it might be, was an incredible feeling. For all the years of his life, it felt like it was beyond his control, his fate decided by other men. They could still come for him, and he would still die, but at least he would not be helpless like a babe ripped from his mother's chest and his head bashed against the wall. No, if he would die, he would die like Rheagar, like a true Targaryen would.

***

The Khalasar left the Dothraki Sea and entered a land called Lhazar. The pastures and hills were a nice change from the ghost grass that grew all across the Dothraki Sea. The people of this land were called the Lhazareen, a people of peaceful shepards, apparently. The Dothraki called them  _haesh rakhi_ , or Lamb Men, ser Jorah explained, and often a Khalasar came this way to plunder and enslave, because the Lhazareen made excellent targets for the Dothraki.

Looking around him, Viserys could only agree.

Death was everywhere around them. Slaughtered sheep, dying horses, the moans of men that were quickly silenced by the so-called "mercy men" or  _jaqqa rahn._ The town was burning, and everywhere he could see the defeated were corralled and herded away, no longer free men and women but slaves. One boy tried to make a run for it, but was quickly chased down by the riders, and killed off when they had their fun. Viserys approached the town at Dany's side, because ser Jorah had gone ahead and had fought against the rival Khalasar. He shot a quick glance to his sister, who was looking at the surroundings in vague disgust.

It was not the first day he rode in Dany's company, for his sister often sought the company of Ser Jorah, and Viserys wasn't foolish enough to leave his side, even if it forced him to ride alongside Dany, who he sometimes caught looking at him with an unreadable expression, unsure what to think of him. She never directed more then a few words to him, but she did not outright disapprove of his company either. When she asked ser Jorah one morning why he looked so winded after only half an hour of riding, and he responded by saying he was sparring with Viserys, she looked at him with what he thought was the tiniest hint of approval, as when Jorah mentioned that he was teaching the King some basic Dothraki. Every time they were alone, though, an uncomfortable silence grew between them. Once, he tried talking to her, but before he could even say a word, she spurred her silver and rode ahead, her khas following her.  _She has become like a stranger to me. My own sister. The girl that used to crawl in my lap and ask tirelessly for stories of the Seven Kingdoms._

But now, the two Targaryen siblings rode side by side to the gates, where ser Jorah stood waiting for them. When they reached him, he lifted the visor of his greathelm and addressed Daenerys. "Your husband awaits you within the town." He then looked at Viserys and nodded to him, Viserys responding with a stiff nod of his own.

"Drogo took no harm?" Dany inquired.

"A few cuts, nothing of consequence. He slew two _khals_ today. Khal Ogo first, and then the son Fogo, who became _khal_ when Ogo fell. His bloodriders cut the bells from their hair, and now Khal Drogo's every step sounds louder then before."

Viserys was distracted by the wailing of a young girl who was shoved facedown into a pile of corpses and taken roughly from behind. From the looks of her, she could not have been more then Dany's age, and for a moment, he saw his sister lying there, being raped. He mentally scolded himself. That was not his sister, that was just a prisoner. Such were the ways of war. The Dothraki only brought death and destruction. They would rape, pillage and kill. He knew that, that's why  he needed them to take back the Seven Kingdoms.  _Fire. Fire and blood._ Besides, slaves like her would pay their way home. The Iron Throne is forged from the blades of Aegon's enemies. A testament to the fact that to conquer and to rule, sacrifices must be made.

His sister was clearly struggling with it though. He could hear her labored breath, he could see the pain in her eyes when she looked upon the girl. She wasn't  really paying attention to what ser Jorah was saying, until she rounded on him and ordered him to make them stop. The knight was perplexed, and so were her bloodriders, but in the end they went to stop the rape anyway.

"You don't look surprised." a voice said, and it took him a moment to realize that it was Dany who was talking, and she was talking to him. His eyes met her, and she was looking at him with contemplation. After a few seconds, he remembered that she had asked him a question. He averted his eyes back to the rapers, where the first head had already rolled.

"No, I'm not. I have always known you have a gentle heart"  _A heart I have stomped on far too many times._

"So you think I'm naive then?" she asked .

"What? I would never..." he sputtered, but stopped when he saw her raise an eyebrow  "A bit naive, then," he conceded, "because it will cost many a life before you will ever see the shores of Westeros. Sacrifices will have to be made. This is war."

"I know, I just hate to see people suffer, especially when I have the power to prevent it." she murmured sadly, and she looked so dejected that Viserys almost put a hand on her, but he dared not do that.

"You know, you remind me of Rheagar sometimes. He also had a gentle heart." _Right up untill the Usurper crushed it with his warhammer._ He looked to his hands, unsure what to do or say, until another hand slipped briefly in his and gave it a quick squeeze. He looked up and saw Dany looking at him, a small soft smile on her lips.

"Thank you, Viserys"

By then, Ser Jorah had returned with the girl, clad in a blood-spattered cloak. Dany send her away with one of her handmaidens, instructing them to let no harm come to the girl. When they made their way across the town, each girl they passed Dany claimed for herself, saving them from attempted rape and worse. One older woman thanked her for it, the rest was probably too afraid to say anything. When ser Jorah carefully suggested that she could not keep them all, Daenerys lashed out to him. Viserys could laugh at the shocked look on the knights' face. 

Finally they reached the main square and found Drogo sitting at the base of a ram statue. He appeared to be largely unharmed. Also, he was talking to another Dothraki, one that Viserys recognized as one of the would-be rapists that Daenerys had stopped. They spoke in quick Dothraki, and although he hadn't mastered enough of the tongue, he could make out that the man, Mago, was not pleased about Dany taking away his spoils. Very soon, the situation came to a head when Mago drew his  _arakh_ against Drogo and cut him in the chest. Drogo got up, dropped all of his weapons and fought the man empty-handed, shouting things in Dothraki. He was able to dodge every swing, but then it seemed his luck had ran out as he caught the  _arakh,_  but in a move too quick for Viserys to follow, Drogo used the weapon to cut the man's throat open, ramming his fist into the wound and ripping his tongue out with his bare hands. The man crumbled to the floor while Drogo threw the tongue away in disgust.

Ser Jorah finally let go of Dany, and Dany hurried to Drogo's side to look at his wounds. The wound appeared to be deep, but not that serious, but he required medical care all the same. The healers were busy though, and Drogo swatted away Dany's concerns. Then, one of the women Dany had saved offered to help heal the _khal,_ and while she was initially met with resistance from Drogo's bloodriders, who called her a  _maegi,_ whatever that might mean, they were eventually overruled by Dany, who seemed to trust the woman implicitly, probably because she had saved her. Viserys did not like the look on this woman, and he could see that ser Jorah was probably of the same mind, but there was no use trying to convince Dany of this. 

_And theirein lies her problem. A gentle heart, yes, but entirely too trusting. Someday, that might come back to bite her in the arse._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is proving to be a very difficult fanfic to write. Viserys is not the easiest character I have ever written, especially because I need to let his character grow in a way that is believable, changing the way he interacts with Dany, ser Jorah and the Dothraki. Let me know in the comments below if you think the if his depiction should be different, but remember what he has been through, so I can't go back to the way he was before all that. I'm trying to let him keep some of his characteristics, such as the way that he both hates ser Jorah, but also needs him for protection and is starting to grudgingly respect the guy a bit, to his fear of the Dothraki that want to kill him to his complex relationship with his sister that he is trying to mend, both for his own safety and for the love I believe he still carried for her.  
> Viserys is not the only problem with this fic though. I started this basically because I wanted to flesh out his backstory a little more, what drove him, figuring out who he really was, and then letting him survive the ordeal because I wanted to see how Dany would react to his survival, and then seeing how he would influence Dany's story (not sure if I should follow the books or the show though).  
> Still, I hope you guys like it.  
> Kudos is love, kudos is life (same goes for comments)


	5. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights belong to George R. R. Martin and HBO

Drogo was dying.

Viserys knew it, ser Jorah knew it, the whole damn Khalasar knew it, and Viserys knew that deep inside, Dany knew it too. She was just denying it. The once ferocious and vivacious Khal, seated on his red stallion, towering over his men was reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. He sat meekly in the saddle, staring off in the distance. His condition had worsened considerably since they left the Lhazareen town, and his health was failing rapidly. 

Despite the fact that Drogo was his sisters husband, and she loved him dearly, Viserys had little love for the horselord. In the beginning, he was just a means to an end, and Viserys had privately hoped that Drogo would not be around for long after his purpose had been fulfilled. Of course, being almost killed by the man did not help sway his opinion. But he could see that his sister genuinly cared for the man, so he would make an effort not to be too pleased with his impending death. Also, the fact remained that although Drogo loated Viserys, he was the reason that Viserys still drew breath in the first place. 

Drogo and Dany were riding in front of him, and he could see his sister regularly glancing at her husband, the concern clearly visible in her violet eyes, before she rode off, probably searching for that Lhazar healing women. Mirri Maz Duur, he believed she was called. Dany seemed to trust her opinion above that of all the other healers in the Khalasar. But privately, he wondered if her techniques were really helping. Drogo's health was failing rapidly, while his injuries had been deep but not serious, and should have been easily treated. He glanced at Drogo, and saw that he had not responded at all to his wife's sudden departure. In fact, it seemed like he did not even notice it.  _Something is seriously wrong here_

When he voiced his thoughts to ser Jorah, the knight scratched his chin before answering: "There is always a possibility that a wound can fester, Your Grace, healing or not. I have seen men die from lesser injuries than the one Khal Drogo took during the fight. But I'm afraid I'm not well versed in the art of healing, certainly not the art the  _maegi_ uses."

_Maegi_ , there was that word again. He had overheard a few Dothraki talking about her in their own, gutteral language, which he was finally beginning to understand a bit, after ser Jorah gave him a few lessons in Dothraki language and culture to help him blend in more. When he asked ser Jorah about the meaning of the word  _maegi,_ he told Viserys that it refers to a person who practices blood magic. Mirri Maz Duur had admitted to being one, telling Dany that the meaning of the word is "wise". It is said that _maegi_ wield frightful powers, so it was not hard to see that the Dothraki hated and feared her in equal measure, saying that she consorts with demons and was brought here to destroy the Khalasar. 

"But still, it is strange that a man as strong as Drogo would succumb to a mere fever." Viserys retorted. 

"Lesser men than him have returned from the brink of death, Your Grace. The _Khal_ is strong. He may yet live."  Ser Jorah studied Drogo's broad back, and Viserys could see that he doubted his own words.

"But what would happen if he doesn't?" Viserys inquired. Ser Jorah sighed.

"Without the  _Khal,_ the  _khalasar_ will fall apart. There is no clear successor to Khal Drogo, None of the Kos has enough support to take over the whole  _khalasar,_ so they will undoubtedly try to split up and form their own. Infighting will break out over horses, slaves and other goods. It will be chaos."

Viserys shuddered at the thought. He has seen enough of the savagery of the Dothraki to know that it would most likely end up in a bloodbath. 

"What about Dany? What will happen to her?"

"According to Dothraki tradition, the widow of a Khal will be escorted to Vaes Dothrak by the bloodriders of her husband, to join the  _Dosh Khaleen_. It is the last service the Bloodriders will do for their  _Khal_ , before joining him in the Nightlands." 

"The  _Dosh Khaleen_ , you mean that bunch of old crones that made Dany eat a heart?" Ser Jorah nodded. "She is blood of the Dragon. She is a princess. She is destined for far greater things than to spend the rest of her live living in a tent doing whatever it is those crazy old bats do."

"She may not have a choice, Your Grace. The Bloodriders are sworn to do this for their  _Khal,_ and no one in the  _khalasar_ will try to stop them." 

"And what about Rhaego? Isn't he the Stallion that Mounts the World?" Viserys asked.

"The Dothraki value strenght above all else. No man would ever follow a swaddling babe. And if he is really the Stallion that Mounts the World, one of the new  _khals_ will surely bash his head in against a rock or throw him to the dogs, rather than to wait for him to become a man and threaten their  _khalasar._ "

Viserys mulled this over. If Khal Drogo were to die, he would be killed or sold as a slave, his sister would waste away with the  _dosh khaleen_ and his nephew would be butchered in the same way his nephew Aegon was butchered by the Usurper's Dogs. A swaddling babe, torn from his mothers breast, brutally murdered for what he might one day become.

"We cannot let this happen, Mormont. I know you hold little love for me, but I know you care about my sister. If something happens, I want you to protect her with your very life. Are we clear on this?" Ser Jorah nodded. "Good! Ready the horses and pack everything that might be of use and value!I want us to be long gone before Drogo breathes his last breath!"

******

Viserys watched as a swarm of flies surrounded the great Khal, who didn't even seem to have enough strenght left to swat at them. One of the flies crawled on his face, and the Khal didn't bat an eye. His sister seemed to grow more and more concerned, fearing for her husband. She rode closer to Drogo, said something, and when the Khal still did not respond, reached out and touched his arm. However, when she touched him, Drogo reeled in the saddle, tilted sideways and fell heavily from his horse in the dirt.

 "Drogo" Dany gasped and heedless of her condition, she scrambled of her horse and ran to him. As she knelt down besides him, Drogo cried out in pain. She brushed off the flies with her hands. Meanwhile, Drogo's bloodriders galloped up. One of them jumped of his horse and fell to his knees next to the Khal. He whispered something to the Khal, who stirred. Drogo mumbled something, Viserys couldn't quite catch it. One of the other bloodriders, who remained mounted, said with a grave voice:

"He fell from his horse"

"Do not say that!" Dany bit out, but the bloodrider just kept looking at Drogo with an impassive face. "We have ridden far enough today. We will camp here." Dany told him. Only then did the bloodrider turn his head to look at her. He objected, of course, since this was an inhospitable waste if Viserys had ever seen one. Another bloodrider spoke up, with a harsh tone, and even though Viserys did not quite catch all the words, it would be hard to  miss the venomous look that the bloodrider shot at Dany. Dany, however, seemed unfazed and calmly repeated her orders. The first bloodrider she send down the column to warn the  _khalasar._ The second one was send off to fetch the slaves in order to erect Drogo's tent. Finally, she send the third one to fetch Mizzi Maz Duur. The bloodriders eyes shot fire when she told him her orders, partially because he hated the  _maegi_ (Viserys couldn't blame her) and partially because he was ordered around by a woman. Still, he wheeled his stallion around and galloped off. While the slaves busied themselves with erecting the Khal's tent, Viserys studied his sister as she fretted over the barely conscious Drogo. His gaze drifted to the man, and despite everything, he felt a stab of pity for the horselord. A man so mighty as him, brought down by a festering wound, it was just insulting. He wheeled his horse around and rode down the column. He found Mormont riding with a couple of young men, who were comparing their arahks with his longsword. When he saw Viserys riding towards him, he excused himself and rode towards him.

"What is it, Your Grace?" Mormont asked, but when he saw how white Viserys was, he knew "has it happened?"

"He fell. His bloodriders and half Dany's khas were witness. There is no way they will keep this quiet. We have to get out of here before it begins." Mormont nodded and together they rode off towards Dany's tent. One of Dany's protectors, Aggo, was standing guard in front of the tent. Mormont dismounted and spoke to him in quick Dothraki. The man nodded and went inside. After a moment, he came back and beckoned them. Viserys dismounted as well and entered the cool tent. While his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the tent, Mormont spoke to Dany.

"Khaleesi, there is a rumor spreading across the Khalasar, and your brother has comfirmed it. He said Khal Drogo fell from his horse."Dany looked at him, and her violet eyes were wet with unshed tears. 

"Help him! For the love you say you bear me, help him now."

Mormont looked at her and nodded. "Send your handmaidens away." With a gesture, Dany dismissed them. When they were gone, Mormont took out a knife and began to scrape away the mud and dried leaves from Drogo's chest. When he finally managed to scrape it away, a foul odor filled the air, so strong Viserys nearly had to gag. When he cast a look upon Drogo's chest, he nearly gagged again. It was black from corruption, and there was blood and pus everywhere. Then, Mormont voiced what they all have been thinking "Your Khal is dead, Princess!"

"No, he can't die, he musn't, it was only a cut." Dany grabbed Drogo's hand and started muttering. "I will not let him die..."

"Khaleesi of princess, that command is beyond your power. Save your tears, child. Weep for him tomorrow, or a year from now. We don't have time for grief. We must go, and quickly, before he dies."

"He's right Dany" Viserys said, and Dany looked startled.  _She did not even know I was here_ he thought wryly. He shook his head and continued. "We cannot be anywhere near this place when he dies. Ser Jorah says we can make for Asshai, to the south. From there, we can take a ship to Pentos."

"But... I don't understand. Why should we flee? I am  _khaleesi_. I carry Drogo's child. He will be  _khal_ after Drogo."  she insisted, and for a moment, she was not the strong young woman Viserys saw every day, but the little child that did not understand why they had to leave their house in Braavos.  But this time, he would not let his anger get the better of him.

"Dany, listen to me. Dothraki respect strength. What strenght does a baby have? They'll never follow a newborn. There will be infighting, chaos, slaughter, and the winner is probably going to kill your babe, and you along with it." 

"He's right, Khaleesi. The kos will fight to be the new khal, and your child will most likely be killed instantly."

"But why? Why would they kill a baby?"

"If the crones spoke truly, this is not just any baby, this is the Stallion That Mounts The World, the Khal to unite all  _khalasars._ They will kill him as an infant to make sure they don't have to face his fury when he reaches manhood."

"My khas will defend me." Dany said stubbornly. "Drogo's bloodriders will defend me."

"The last duty the bloodriders own their  _khal_ is to deliver his  _khaleesi_ to the crones in Vaes Dothrak. Then they will join Drogo in the nightlands."

Dany was silent for a minute, staring at the body of Drogo. "I will not leave him." she took his hand in hers. "I will not."

Mormont, no doubt expecting this very answer, had a look of grim acceptance on his face, but Viserys wasn't ready to give up yet.

"Dany, please, listen to reason."

"I will not leave him."

"Dany, please..."

"No!"

"They'll kill you! They'll kill your baby. They will kill me. They will kill all of us."

For the first time in a long time, he managed to catch his sisters eyes. His lilac eyes staring in her violet ones, wishing for her to understand the danger of the situation and to do the smart thing.

For a long moment, they just looked each other in the eyes. No one spoke, no one moved, no one breathed. Then, Dany stood up from her position and walked towards her personal belongings. She picked a heavy sack up and handed it to him. When he looked inside, he was surprised. Inside were the dragon eggs, as shiny and pretty as the day Illyrio Mopatis had gifted them to Dany.

"You won't die." she said, and to his astonishment, she flung her arms around his neck, pressing herself close, burying her face in his chest, drenching his shirt in her tears. "Take the eggs. I gift them to you. Use them to buy ships, raise an army and take back our homeland. It is your destiny as the Last Dragon. Be the good and noble king I know you can be. Go home, Viserys."Off all the things he expected to hear from her, that wasn't one of them. 

"But..." he stuttered, "what about you?" I can't do this without you. You're my sister. I promised to take you home!" a single tear left his lilac eyes and made a trail down his dirty face. 

"Home. What is home to me? The Red Keep? A place I have never seen before, and only know from stories. A house in Braavos with a red door? Or perhaps this is my home, at my husbands side, where I should be. Where I belong." She wiped away the tear from his face. "Don't mourn for me, brother. Our fates are not yet decided. Not mine, not yours, not even Drogo's. But as long as he draws breath, I will not leave his side. For he is my home."

Viserys wanted to protest, but a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. When he looked up, he saw Mormont, subtly shaking his head. It was of no use. Dany's mind was fixed on this, and she would not be moved, not even for the Seven Kingdoms. Part of him wanted to grab her, throw her over his horse and just ride off into the sunset. She was his sister, he was supposed to act in her best interests, even if she did not. But she hadn't been 'his' for a while now. He no longer had any right to tell her what to do.

"You can always stay" Mormont suggested, but Viserys paled at the suggestion. Without Drogo's protection, he would be dead. No Dothraki would ever keep him as a slave. Killing him, however, would make for great sport. At least, if they left now, he had a chance to put some leagues between himself and the  _khalasar,_ he at least had a fighting chance. To his great astonishment however, Dany spoke up.

"No! I don't want him to stay here. He's right, he's going to get himself killed. And I don't want to lose another one of my family. Besides," she added with a brittle smile, " he has a kingdom to reclaim. Ser Jorah, I order you to make sure my brother leaves right now."

Viserys looked at her, unsure what to say. Moments passed as the siblings stared at one another, each afraid to break the silence. In the end, he just nodded and walked out. It was all he could do while keeping himself together.

****

Mormont accompanied him while he fetched whatever possessions he had and helped him saddle his horse. Viserys patted the head of the steed he had decided to call Balerion, because he truly had the temper of a dragon. When everything was packed, he turned to Mormont. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound escaped his lips. He considered Mormont to be something akin to a friend, but he had no idea how to say his goodbye. Fortunatley, Mormont broke the silence.

"Well, off you go then. Normally I would say to take the same route we took, because there is more water and food to be found there, but it is a route frequented by many a  _khalasar._ If you strike northeast, you will trek through some rougher terrain, but it should be the safer route, and there is still plenty of water and food to be found, especially for one man."

"Thank you, ser Jorah." Viserys mounted his horse. "I'll keep that in mind"

"Good luck, Your Grace." Mormont said, and Viserys could hear the honesty in his tone.

"You know, if there is any doubt which of us it is you really serve,..."

"There isn't."

"And if you're questioning who you should really follow, ...."

"I'm not."

"Let me finish, will you?" Viserys bit out, and Mormont was wearing that shit-eating grin again. " If you're questioning who you should really follow (shut up!), I order you to stay with Dany. She can use your protection better then I can, and yes I know you doubt that, stop smirking, but she will need someone she can trust around her. Plus, I never really liked you anyway."

"The feeling's more then mutual." Mormont retorted, and this time they were both grinning. Then, Mormont offered his hand and Viserys shook it. "You know, I was wrong about you, Your Grace. You are more then a shadow of a snake. You are a dragon. A small, pale and sickly one, but a dragon nonetheless."

"Yes, I'll miss you too, Mormont." Viserys deadpanned, and Mormont was smirking again.

"Well, safe travels, Your Grace." 

"I'll manage. I'll probably do better on my own then with you there, for now there is no one to slow me down"

"I doubt that."

"I take my "I'll miss you too" back. Rot in the Seven Hells for all I care."

Mormont's laughter could still be heard long after he had disappeared out of sight.

*****

Viserys had ridden for about an hour before the head became too much and he sought refuge under some overhanging rocks, pulling out his water flask. He knew he had to use it sparingly, because the first place he could fill it was still a day's ride off. After he had a quick rest, he stood up and gave Balerion something to eat and a bit of water. Balerion whinnied, and he stroked the horse's mane affectionately. Then, his eyes drifted to the large sack tied to the side of the horse. He took it off and opened it, pulling out a black dragon egg. Despite the fact that age had turned them to stone, the egg still was warm. And sometimes, it was like he could feel a tiny pulse coming out of the thing. They were a thing of beauty. Viserys recalled the day his sister had received them, how jealous he had been because they were not given to him, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms and the last male Targaryen, the Dragon himself. But now, he had the eggs, and his sister,....

Well, he did not know what was happening to his sister.  _She should have been here with me. She should  be here when I reclaim our homeland._ a voice said.  _What are you going to do without her? I thought your reason to reclaim the Seven Kingdoms was to take her home, the home she deserved, the home denied to us by the accursed Usurper. You swore your mother that you would look after her, that you would give her what is her due. And together, you would wreak bloody vengeance on those that wronged your family._

_She made her choise,_  a voice inside his head insisted. _She chose the horselord over her brother. She chose life among the Dothraki over the Seven Kingdoms. You should leave her to rot in the misery she created for herself and set your plans in motion. You have the dragon eggs. Sell them, and you have your ship, your armies, your kingdom. Everything you ever wanted, everything that is yours by right!_

_Except her._

_Fool!_ the voice hissed,  _she is but one girl. What is one girl against Westeros? Your sister or the Iron Throne? You have a duty to your family, your ancestors who bled to give the Seven Kingdoms the rulers they deserved. You are the blood of the dragon, the blood of conquerors. The blood of Old Valyria that made seven kingdoms one. You owe your allegiance to them. Your sister has strayed from her path, seduced by a fucking savage. She is no longer worth your time. Let her rot, her knight alongside her, and ride off to your destiny. Don't you want it? The Iron Throne, the Seven Kingdoms? Your home?_

An image appeared before his mind's eye: he was in the Red Keep, in the Throne Room. The skulls of all the Targaryen Dragons looking down upon the room, silent witnesses of the occasion. A great many lords and ladies were assembled, chittering amongst themselves. But all noise faded when the doors swung open and Viserys entered. 

It was a Viserys like he could have never imagined he looked like. He was clothed in fabrics of the finest quality, and his boots were so polished they almost shone. He wore an elegant half-cape and a golden signet ring on his finger, and his nails were clean. The Viserys in the image was built slightly sturdier then his normal lanky frame, so the image must take place somewhere in the future. And on the top of his head, resting on his platinum blond hair, a circle crown of Valyrian steel, set with big, square-cut rubies.  _The Crown of Aegon the Conqueror._

He was flanked by seven knights wearing white cloaks. When they passed, all the lords and ladies bowed to him. When he walked towards the Iron Throne, a voice proclaimed: " _All Hail His Grace King Viserys of House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals, The Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm"_ When he reached the Iron Throne, he climbed the steps and sat down, looking out over the hall. He had done it. He had avenged his family and taken back his birthright. And finally, Westeros would get the king it so desperately needed.

_See?_ the voice whispered in his ear.  _This is what I offer you. Power. Justice. Revenge. All you have to do is get on your horse, ride to the nearest city and you will have it all. Revenge on the Usurper and his lapdogs. The restoration of the greatest dynasty the world has ever seen. All of your dreams and wishes will come true, I promise you._

Viserys admitted, he felt that everything he had strived for for his whole life was finally within reach. After years of having to watch all hishopes wither and die, he felt that he could finally dare to look to the future with faith. And the image the voice had provided him with was everything he had ever dreamed of. But when he looked out over his subjects, he noticed a small thing in the corner of his eye. When he turned to look at it, he found himself staring in a very familiar face. The hair was the same, her nose was the same, her mouth was the same, but that look of unadulterated pride was something he had never seen in her eyes before, mingled with the wide-eyed adoration she once held for him when she was a child. 

In that instant, his mind was made up. He jumped on Balerion's back and galopped off.

****

The sun was setting over the horizon, the sky a bruised red. The Khalasar had made camp, but no one was in their tent: they were all running around, restless, some agitated, some angry, but most of them had a look of naked fear on their faces. The reason why was not hard to discern. A strange wail that shook him to his very core was coming out of Khal Drogo's tent, and the lit braziers casted long shadows on the canvas. When Viserys halted a slave to ask what was going on, the girl gripped onto him in pure terror. She was blabbering, but one word he could make out was  _maegi._ When he finally managed to shake the girl off and he rode on, he smelled the scent of charred horse meat.

_By the Gods, Dany, what have you done?_

When he emerged from between the tents, pandemonium struck. One of Dany's protectors lay dying in the grass, cut open from an arakh wound under the arm. Dany's other Dothraki were fighting Drogo's bloodriders. Dany herself was sitting on her knees, hugging her belly. Ser Jorah was trying to fight off the fiercest of Drogo's bloodriders, but it was clear the older knight had difficulties keeping up with the bloodrider, especially when he was encumbered by heavy steel plate. But he managed to do so adequately, until he spotted Viserys in the crowd. He was distracted for a mere moment only, but that was all Qotho needed and he buried his arakh in Mormont's hip. Mormont stumbled and fell backwards. Qotho wrenched his arakh free and prepared to deal the killing blow. 

Viserys had no idea what came over him, but before he realized, he was standing between the bloodrider and the wounded knight, drawing his own sword. Qotho was momentarily stunned, but then he started to laugh. "Khal Rhagat." he spat, and he pointed his arakh to Viserys' face before he started to talk in Dothraki. Viserys didn't understand most of it, but it was clear that Qotho was looking forward to make him eat his own guts. Then , quick as lightning, he lunged towards him, and Viserys could only narrowly avoid the sharp steel. Qotho sneered and began a relentless offensive. After a few blows, it became clear to Viserys that Mormont, in fact, had been going easy on him, and it seemed that his evasions and his parries seemed more like luck then skill. Not only that, but Viserys was quickly becoming tired. He had no hope of defeating the Dothraki in a fair fight, so he would have to come up with a plan, and fast. Suddenly, an idea sprang to mind. But he would only have one chance. If he failed, he would die. When Qotho aimed a large cut at his head, seeking to end the fight quickly, he ducked and rolled under the blade and past him. He got up and was just in time to parry a downwards cut, and he managed to turn the blade aside. But then, when all seemed lost, the gods came to his aid. The last rays of the fading sun hit Qotho squarely in the eye, blinding him for the merest of seconds, but that was all Viserys needed to bury his blade in his stomach. Qotho grunted and fell to his knees. Viserys pulled out his sword and aimed a cut at the Dothraki's ear that was so vicious that his face almost seemed to explode.

Having finished his foe, he looked around and saw that the remainder of Dany's bodyguards had managed to kill the rest of Drogo's bloodriders. But that was not what he was concerned about. Then, he saw her next to one of the bloodriders. Her cheeks were tearstained and her dress was bloody, but she was alive. He ran towards her and hugged her as tightly as her condition allowed.

"Viserys?" she said in a small voice, "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me Dany. It's over, you're safe."

"I thought you left." she said softly

"I came back." he responded simply, and despite everything, a tiny brittle smile appeared on her face.

"Thank you." she whispered, but then she convulsed, as if she was in great pain. Viserys looked at her in shock and noticed the wetness on her ties, the blood that was coming out. 

"She's giving birth" he shouted. "Quick, Doreah, fetch the birthing women."

"They will not come. They say she is accursed."

"They will come or I'll have their heads." he barely resisted the urge to scream at her. Ser Jorah grunted his approval.

"They are gone" Doreah was weeping now.

_"_ The  _maegi!"_ one of the Dothraki said, "take her to the  _maegi."_

"Are you insane?" Ser Jorah shouted. "Don't you see what she is doing in there?"

"She knows the secret of the birthing bed." Irri, one of Dany's handmaidens, said. Doreah agreed.

Viserys was in doubt. He agreed with ser Jorah, that witch was doing something unnatural in that tent and his first instinct was to carry Dany as far away as possible. But Dany was giving birth and they needed someone with experience to aid her, or they would risk losing her. When Dany groaned again in pain, he made his decision. He gathered her up in his arms and carried her into the tent. Her survival was most important. Surely, to guarantee that, no price was too high to pay.


	6. Fire and Blood

Dany was thrashing in her sleep.

Since carrying her into the tent, Viserys had not left her side for a single moment. Even when the great  _khalasar_ splintered around them, and the raping, pillaging and killing started, no one dared to disturb them. In fact, they all seemed to give the tent a wide berth. The only people that came and went were Dany's handmaidens and other members of her  _khas_ to bring food and water. But judging by their terrified expressions, Viserys knew that only their loyalty and love for their  _khaleesi_ kept them around. Viserys could not blame them. The horrors he had witnessed in the tent were enough to put fear in the hearts of even the bravest of men. Even the otherwise undaunted Ser Jorah seemed anxious and on edge.

Dany, for now, was blissfully unaware of what had transpired in the tent, but it seemed she was facing demons of her own in her dreams. More then once, she trashed violently, once almost slapping Doreah when she was trying to put a wet rag on her head, and she was moaning all the time. Every time Viserys laid eyes on the sleeping form of his sister, he was struck by how young she was. She looked so tiny and vulnerable, and his heart ached when he thought of all the hardships she had to endure in her short life. Shame swept over him like a wave when he thought of how much of this hardship was caused by him. The situation they were in all his life wasn't of his making, but the rift between them certainly was. Even in the most difficult of times, they had each other, but he was too blind and too bitter to be thankful for that. He had done the opposite, he had blamed her for their situation, dominated her, turned her into a frightened little girl, and made her indifferent to him. He swallowed when he remembered her cold, dead eyes when she looked at him during his "coronation".

But despite of that, he was proud of the strong woman she had become. With a people to care for, a loyal friend at her side and the love of a man that seemed incapable of loving, a strong woman had emerged from the ashes of that frightened little girl. Not to mention the babe that was growing in her belly. Viserys threw a quick glance at Ser Jorah, and the grim lines on his bearded face told Viserys that, he too was thinking of Rhaego.

The child, if he could call it that, never lived. When he first saw the tiny body of the stillborn babe, he had thrown up violently. It was a monstrous, twisted thing. Scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and tiny, leathery wings on his back, like a bat. He reeked of death and corruption. He and Ser Jorah had carried it outside and burned it.  _The Stallion that Mounts the World_ , he had thought wistfully when he watched the tiny form burn on the pyre.  _It looked more like a dragon than a stallion._

The  _maegi's_ magic had somehow corrupted the babe and twisted it into this... abomination, of that they were sure. Viserys only barely managed to stop Ser Jorah from marching inside and plunging his sword into Mirri Maz Duur's abdomen. He figured Dany would want to ask her some questions first.

Viserys was shocked out his reverie when a hand touched his shoulder. It was Doreah, one of Dany's handmaidens. She was holding a plate with some bread, and a glass of fermented mare's milk. "You must rest, Your Grace. I will wake you when something changes." Viserys wanted to argue, but an unexpected severe glare from Doreah cut his protest short. He took the plate from her hands, thanked her and went to his own tent. It wasn't long before sleep claimed him.

***

Viserys was awoken from a dream filled with shadows, fire and dragons by a hand shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, Your Grace! You must wake up!" When he opened one bleary eye, he saw Doreah standing above him. "Your sister is awake, and she wants to see you and Ser Jorah. You must come with me!" Viserys rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand and got up. He followed Irri out of his tent towards Dany's. 

"What happened?" he asked the Lysene girl. 

"Since you went off to sleep, she has awoken three times. The first time when she awoke, she asked for water. When Jhiqui returned, she found her crawling towards her dragon eggs. Ser Jorah carried her back to her sleeping silks. The  _maegi_ gave her something to sleep. The second time, we gave her the dragon eggs. Now, she asked for you and for Ser Jorah."

"You should have woken me sooner" he snarled. "I should have been there for her when she woke up." She sent a dismissive glance his way.

"You needed the rest, Your Grace. You have been at her side for three days without resting."

"Still, I should have been there for her. I would have sat next to her for a whole week if that is what it took." They reached Dany's tent, but before they could enter, Doreah grabbed his elbow to hold him back.

"Your Grace, you don't have to sit at her bedside for a year to prove her you care. She knows." she gave him a smile, the first genuine smile she ever gave him. But her words did little to appease him.

"If you knew what I have done to her, you would not say that. I have a lot to make up for, and I doubt that I will ever be done apologizing for it. And now, I killed her son!"

Her smile fell away after those words, replaced by a look of steely determination. "Maybe you do. The Khaleesi has not shared many stories of her past with us, but I could glean from those stories that you hurt her. But I don't think you are that person anymore. Your golden crown has changed you, Your Grace. And you did not kill her son. The _maegi_ did! You saved her life, twice. You came back for her, even when you had no reason to do so. You stayed by her bedside for three days without resting. She knows you are sincere in your attempt to right your past wrongs, and in her heart, she is starting to forgive you. The fact that she asked after you only enforces that view. " By now, her smile was blooming once again, and Viserys felt his own lips curving upwards, a smile slowly forming on his lips. Then, Doreah held out her hand, and Viserys shook it. It seemed he had just gained an ally in winning back his sister's heart.

***

Just when they were about to enter the tent, Dany walked outside, being supported by Ser Jorah. When she saw him, however, she threw herself into his arms, sobbing. "You came back, you really came back." Viserys was stunned into silence, and only after a few moments he started tentatively hugging her back while she pressed her face in his chest. "I thought it was just a dream." He slowly pushed her away so he could look her in the eyes

"It is not a dream, Dany. I am really here. And I won't leave you. Not again!" he spoke with such conviction that a watery smile made it's way on her face, and for the first time, Viserys saw a glimpse of that young, innocent girls that used to beg him for stories and slept in his bed to ward off the nightmares. A tentative grin appeared on his face as well, before it was replaced by seriousness.

"Dany, I am so, so sorry. I should have never carried you into that tent. I killed your son." He bowed his head in defeat, certain that he would have lost her love for good, when he felt a small hand pulling up his chin so he could look her in the eye.

"It is not your fault, Viserys. I knew the price, a life for a life. I was foolish enough to believe she was talking about the horse. My son is dead because of me!" a fresh tear rolled down her already wet cheek. Viserys wiped it away with his thumb.

"Mirri Maz Duur deceived you, Dany. If there is anyone to blame for all of this, it is her." She nodded.

"It just hurts so much, Viserys. I want the pain to go away. I want my sun-and-stars. If the  _maegi_ spoke the truth, at least he lives. Let my son's sacrifice not have been in vain." 

Somehow, Viserys knew that Dany did not believe it herself.

***

Viserys, along with Ser Jorah, guided Daenerys through the remains of Drogo's  _khalasar._ There were scarcely a hundred left, mostly children, women and old men. Only a few score horses remained, most of them either too old or too young to be useful for a Dothraki warrior. All the warriors, the herds and the slaves were gone. When Dany asked after the fate of the slave girl she rescued, Eroeh, one of her khas informed her that she was brutally raped by Khal Jhaqo and his men, she could no longer conceal her anger, especially when on of her  _khas_ told her it was the fate of the girl.

"It was a cruel fate" she spat out "yet not so cruel as Jhaqo's will be. I promise you that, by the old gods and the new, by the lamb god and the horse god and every god that lives. I swear by the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. Before I am done with them, Ko Jhaqo and his men will plead for the mercy they showed Eroeh."

" _Khaleesi_ " one of Dany's Dothraki handmaidens, Irri, said "Jhaqo is a _khal_ now, with twenty thousand riders at his back."

"And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo." Her tone brooked no argument. So they brought her to Khal Drogo, exactly where they had left him, lying on the bare red sand, staring up at the sun, not even bothering to chase away the bloodflies that were gathering on his body. The scar on his body was still repulsive to behold. Drogo was alive, but Viserys wasn't sure if you could call the state he was in living. Drogo did not even notice when Dany knelt next to him and whispered his name. He kept staring ahead. Drogo could walk, he could eat, he could drink. In fact, he could do everything apart from actually living. 

After a while, Dany kissed his brow and stood up to face Mirri Maz Duur. "Your spells are costly,  _maegi._ "

"He lives. You asked for life. You paid for life." she replied.

"This is not life, for one who was as Drogo was. His life was laughter, and meat roasting over a firepit, and a horse between his legs. His life was an  _arakh_ in his hand and bells ringing in his hair as he rode to meet an enemy. His life was his bloodriders, and me, and the son I was to give him." When Mirri Maz Duur did not reply, she continued "When will he be as he was?"

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before."

Dany gestured at Viserys, Ser Jorah and the others "Leave us! I will speak with the maegi alone." Mormont and the Dothraki withdrew, but Viserys stayed at her side, still supporting him. When she gave him a displeased look, he simply raised an eyebrow, and Dany seemed to give up before focusing her attention back on Mirri Maz Duur. 

"You  _knew_! You knew what I was buying, and you knew the price, and yet you let me pay it." her voice shook with anger.

"It was wrong of them to burn my temple. That angered the Great Shepherd" the woman said matter-of-factly.

"This was no god's work." Viserys countered. "You cheated her. You murdered her son."

"The Stallion who Mounts the World will burn no cities now. His  _khalasar_ will trample no nations into dust."

"I spoke for you" Dany said anguished. "I saved you."

"Saved me?" the woman spat "Three riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me as you passed. How then did you save me? I saw my god's house burn, where I healed good men beyond counting. My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of heads. I saw the head of a baker who made my bread. I saw the head of a boy I had saved of deadeye fever, only three moons past. I heard children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips. Tell me again what you saved."

"Your life!"

At that, Mirri Maz Duur laughed cruelly. "Look at your  _khal_ and see what life is worth, when all the rest is gone."

Dany called the men of her  _khas_  and ordered them to restrain Mirri Maz Duur and take her away. Meanwhile, she had Drogo's body brought back to the tent. Just before she entered, their eyes met, and after a second our two, she gave a curt nod and went inside. Viserys did not follow her, nor did he need to. He knew what was going to take place inside that tent.

Drogo was never going to leave it alive.

****

Visery looked at the pyre they were constructing with confusion. What was his sister planning? She had obviously confided in Ser Jorah, because he could see them whispering to each other, but they fell silent ever time he neared them. Right now, they were doing more than just arguing. By the look on the face of the grizzled older knight, he was practically begging her. The look of pure anguish in his eyes made Viserys worried. What was his sister up to that would cause such distress for the knight? He looked back at the pyre. The bottom layer of the pyre was constructed of kindling. A horse was butchered in the middle. Over the carcass, they were building a platform, on which they were piling Drogo's greatest treasures. By now, the bound _maegi_ was brought to the pyre.  _Does she mean to burn her too?_ Viserys wondered. But if that was the case, why would Ser Jorah be so distressed?

After the third platform was constructed, Dany assembled her people.

"You will be my _khalasar,_ " she told them, "I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take of your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. If you stay, it will be as brothers and sistes, husbands and wives." Everyone was silent, their eyes fixed on her. "I see the children, women, the wrinkled faces of the aged. I was a child yesterday. Today I am a woman. Tomorrow I will be old. To each of you I say, give me your hands and your hearts, and there will always be a place for you."

She then proceeded to give weapons to three of her people, the warriors Jhogo, Aggo and Rakharo, naming them her bloodriders. Each of them refused, stating that it would bring shame to follow a woman. Dany ignored him. Then, she came upon Ser Jorah, who gave his oath without hesitation. She kissed the aged knight gently on the lips and named him the first of her Queenguard. At last, she came upon him. She gave him a weak smile.

"It is strange, that on the day where I lost almost everything that I held dear, I find something that I feared lost a long time ago. Something that was once the most valuable thing in the whole world to me. I lost all hope that I would ever find it again. It is strangely fitting that here, at the end of all things, I have found that which I have missed so dearly. " Viserys opened his mouth to say something, but Dany softly placed her finger on his lips, silencing him. "I once had a brother. I thought he was the greatest man that ever lived, and I loved him dearly. But life, cruel and harsh, snatched him away from me and left a bitter and angry shell in its place, one that looked and sounded like my brother, but was someone else entirely. For years I prayed to the gods to give my brother back to me, but they did not listen. I started to harden my heart against him, so he could not hurt me again. He became like a stranger to me in the end. I would have watched him die. But somehow, the gods finally heard my prayer, and on the day that they took away my son and my husband, they gave me back my brother." and with those words, she threw herself in his arms, and this time, he wrapped them around her without hesitation. He buried his head into her solf platinum hair and breathed in deeply. She smelled of smoke and a scent he could only describe as home.

"I am so, so sorry." he whispered.

"I know" she said before pulling back gently. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and pecked him lightly on the lips before going back into her tent, followed by her handmaidens.

****

After a few hours, she emerged from her tent with Jhogo and Aggo carrying Drogo's body up to the pyre. 

"Oil!" she commanded, and they poured oil all over the pyre. When that was done, she turned to her handmaidens. "Bring my eggs." The handmaidens ran off. Ser Jorah made his way to her. 

"My queen, Drogo will have no use for dragon's eggs in the night lands. Better sell them in Asshai. Sell one and we can buy a ship to take us back to the Free Cities. Sell all three and you will be a wealthy woman all your days."

"They were not given to me to sell." Dany told him, and she had the eggs placed around Drogo. Then, she kissed Drogo's cold lips. When she climbed down from the pyres, Viserys remarked. "You know, you're not the first one who ever tried hatching dragon's eggs by putting them into a fire. So far, it hasn't worked." She actually chuckled at that.

"Well, there is a first time for everything, right?" Then, she had ser Jorah and Rakharo drag the  _maegi_ on the pyre. When she saw what Dany was planning, she called her mad. This did little to deter her, however.

"You will not hear me scream." Mirri Maz Duur told her.

"I will," Dany responded, "but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life." Mirri Maz Duur did not reply, but her eyes held fear. 

At that point, low in the eastern sky, a star appeared, but it was no ordinary star. It was a comet, burning red, bloodred, fire read. A dragon's tail. After seeing the comet, Dany nodded. She grabbed the torch from Aggo and thrust it into the pyre. It only took a few seconds for it to catch on fire, and in no time the entire pyre was alight. By the time it reached the top, and Mirri Maz Duur began screaming, it became too hot for the Dothraki and Mormont to bear. Only Dany and Viserys were still standing close by. Then suddenly, Dany took a step forwards, towards the flames. But before she could take another step, Viserys had grabbed her by the elbow.

"Are you mad?" he shouted over the deafening roar of the fire, "what do you think you're doing?"

"This is the only way!" Dany shouted back, "just like you did! The fire gave me my brother back. You were reborn from it's ashes. It purified you. Made you whole." she nodded at the burning  _maegi,_ whose screams were becoming weaker and weaker. "A life for a life. Only death can pay for life. If I look back I am lost."

"You're not making any sense!" he screamed.

"It will!" once again, she softly pressed her lips against his.

"Let me go with you then. Together." She smiled sadly.

"No, this is something I have to do alone." and with that, she gave him a hard shove, and he stumbled backwards and fell. When he regained focus, Dany had already disappeared into the sea of flames.

"DANY!" he shouted, but before he could get up, Ser Jorah already had him firmly in his grip.

"Let. me. go. I. need. to. go. to. her!" he bit out, struggling to escape the grip but failing.

"There is nothing you can do Your Grace." he looked at the pyre with sadness. Viserys felt himself go limp in his arms.

*****

When the pyre died out, they found her amidst the ashes, blackened logs, bits of glowing embers and the bones of men, woman and horse. Her clothes were destroyed and her beautiful hair was burned to a crisp, but she was unhurt.

A cream-and-gold dragon was suckling on her left breast, a green and bronze one on her right. A black and red dragon was draped across her shoulders. When Viserys approached, it lifted it's head and stared at him with eyes as red as coals.

Viserys could hear ser Jorah falling to his knees behind him, and he heard several Dothraki murmur "Blood of my blood" but he only had attention for Dany and the three amazing creatures that were adorning her body. Then, when he reached her, he too fell on his knees 

"My Queen!" he said, and bowed his head in submission. He stared at the ground until he felt a soft hand pushing his chin upwards. She had moved towards him, and was now crouching at his level. She lifted his head upwards so they were looking each other in the eye. They were staring at one another for what felt like an eternity, before Dany finally spoke.

"A dragon bows for no one." she said softly, and she streched out her arm. The black and red dragon did not hesitate to jump on the arm and clamber his way up Viserys' arm, until he was securely perched on his shoulder. Then Dany stood up and held out a hand towards Viserys, who took it. When she helped him up, she did not release his hand, but entwined her fingers with his and squeezed them.

"Together!" she said, and she gave him the brightest smile he had ever seen, before they turned around to look at her people, their people.

"My King."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. At long last, I have managed to complete the story I wanted to tell. Well, originally I only wanted to write the tragic backstory of one of the most hated and misunderstood characters in the whole A Song of Ice and Fire saga, but it gradually developed into a "What if Viserys survived his crown?" And despite all the characters probably being extremely out of character, I am still quite pleased with the result. 
> 
> Now, there are a couple of things I want to address here. First of all, this story follows the events of A Game of Thrones, both the series season 1 and the book of the same name. Luckily, season 1 probably sticks closest to the book of all GoT seasons, so it was easy enough to use the book to fill in gaps made by the series and the other way around. There are some minor contradictions, like the fact that Drogo kills Mago in the series but not in the books, and therefore I had to rewrite the story of Eroeh a bit, because she was in fact raped by him after the Khalasar split. But most of them were minor. Most of the dialogue that is not Viserys and/or characters talking about Viserys is straight from the book and/or tv series, so I can't take credit for that. The last two chapters are entirely book-based, because I felt it needed that extra bit of depth provided in the novels.
> 
> The second thing I want to discuss is the possibility of a sequel, or if I am ambitious and have the time for it, a series depicting the (mis)adventures of Viserys, Dany, Ser Jorah and the rest of the crew. If there is a demand for such a thing, I will gladly look into it and figure out where to go next from here. Do I follow the books or the series? How should the character evolve? I feel like I may have written the story with a little too much character growth and little room for more in a possible sequel because I didn't think I would do a second one, but if you guys have any advice regarding that I'm always open to good ideas. The more I think about it, the more I would like to make a sequel, even if it is just to see some Viserys/Daario or Viserys/Tyrion interaction. 
> 
> So, in other words, if you liked this story and want to see it continued, and you have suggestions of how to make it work, please leave it in the comments below. Also, if you liked this story and want to make your opinion known, but you don't have suggestions, you can leave a comment below. If you liked it but you don't want your opinion known and you don't have a suggestion, you can give kudos. 
> 
> Finally, I want to give thanks to Viserys of House Targaryen, Third of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. You were a real piece of work, but I was sad to see you go, and no one deserves to die the way you did. I hope I did you justice.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I wanted this of my chest for a long time. I think Viserys is one of the most tragic characters in the series. I mean, when you first meet him, he seems like a royal douchebag. He mistreats Dany, he is cruel and evil, and has SERIOUS ANGER MANAGEMENT ISSUES. But when you get to know him better, and you know his backstory, what has happened to him, you see how his tragic past caused his descent into madness, the madness that is inherent in the Targaryen family. It does not redeem him, but you feel more empathy towards him. Personally, I think he's a great character, one of my favorites, and the awesome performance by Harry Lloyd really makes it a truly pitiful guy. I still think his end, although fitting, was unnecessary cruel, and Emilia Clarke's ice-cold reaction as Daenerys Targaryen really makes me feel sorry for the guy. After all, it is hard to die unmourned.
> 
> In this fic, I tried to recount Viserys' tragic past through a bunch of flashbacks right before he dies. But then again, does he die? He is the Dragon, and fire cannot kill the dragon.
> 
> It is highly possible that some of the characters, especially Viserys, are a bit OOC, especially in the first part, but I don't really care. It's how I imagined him to be
> 
> The story is not over, I assure you. I have merely set the stage. In the next chapter, we'll most likely have a funeral or a really akward talk. 
> 
> Also, excuse me if my writing isn't as good as that of GRRM himself. I assure you, if I could write as well as him, I would not be writing fanfiction, I would be writing my third best-selling novel.


End file.
